The Chelsie Prompts
by Hogwarts Duo
Summary: A collection of stories based on prompts from the Chelsie Prompts blog on Tumblr. Ratings may change per chapter and prompt. All of the stories will be Charles Carson and Elsie Hughes. Other characters may appear from time to time.
1. Chapter 1

**Snowbound:**

Their love nest was incredibly warm. Charles had seen to the fire before the first snowflake fell and had made certain to keep it going once the blizzard really set in. Elsie sat on the end of the sofa, her perfectly steeped tea at her fingertips on the end table, her new book in hand, and her lap covered by the warm blanket Charles had brought down earlier that day from their bedroom. She was perfectly content to be in her own home, surrounded by her own things, and with the man she loved.

It was their first winter as husband and wife and she was enjoying the quiet time with him that the large snowfall outside had afforded them. She only wished that she had felt better leading up to the record setting storm. Dr. Clarkson had assured them that Elsie merely had a stubborn cold, nothing at all to worry about, though to Charles that only meant he should worry more. Warm, hearty soups, breads, and Beecham's powders for her minor aches had been administered by her husband with love and care and Elsie had been most grateful for her attention.

However, as she sat by the fire, attempting to read, she was growing more and more agitated with her adoring husband. She'd lost count of the number of times he'd sighed just in the last hour. He's stoked the fire no less than five, and had crossed the room to the window to comment on the current state of the snowfall at least three.

"It's still snowing, Elsie. I cannot remember a time when we've had this much snow. It's a good thing we have enough provisions in the house to last at least a week."

"Yes, I'm thankful we were able to do some shopping when we visited Dr. Clarkson the other day. Otherwise, we might be sitting here contemplating what we had in the cupboards."

"Nonsense! You do an excellent job of keeping everything well stocked, even if we don't take many meals here. I'm sure we'd have found plenty to eat." He closed the curtain and made to put another log on the fire.

"Don't you dare add another log to that fire! It's warm enough in here as it is, and we'll be going up to bed sooner rather than later. As it is, I'm about to break out into a sweat."

Charles was at her side in an instant, feeling her forehead and checking her wrist for a temperature or an increase in her heart rate. "Are you not feeling well? I can get you something, if you'd like," he said, hovering over her a little more than necessary.

Elsie rolled her eyes and tossed the lap blanket off to the side. "What I would like, Mr. Carson, is to get out of this house. I think we're both tired of being held hostage by the snow, and it'll do us both some good for a change of scenery."

He was already shaking his head by the time she completed her request. "Absolutely not. It's out of the question, and that's final. You've been under the weather. It's bitterly cold outside, and if something were to happen, Dr. Clarkson would have a terrible time making his way out to see you. I won't risk it."

"You misunderstand me, Charles. I'm not asking for permission. I'm telling you, we're going for a short walk. Even if it's just to the end of the lane and back a few times. The brisk air will do us good, and it will be nice to see the snow falling around us instead of past the window pane." She stood and tossed the blanket on the back of the sofa. "If you don't want to go with me, that's fine. I won't force you. But, I would prefer your company to going alone," she said softly, hoping to convince him to join her.

Charles had never been able to deny his lovely bride anything, even before they were married but especially now that they were. His trepidation at going on the walk was overshadowed by his desire to make her happy, though he had to try at least one more tactic before completely giving in to her whim. "And what if one of us falls? It's sure to be slippery out there and the snow accumulation won't make it easy for walking, even to the end of the lane as you suggested. I'd be surprised if we could get five paces from the front door."

"We won't fall because you won't let us fall, love," she said, slipping her arms around his waist and giving him a hug. You'd never let anything happen to me so I am not the least bit worried about putting on my warm clothes and venturing out into the snow. My handsome, strong husband will protect me from the vicious snow monsters," she teased, giving him a little squeeze before kissing the underside of his jaw.

He leaned down and captured her lips with his, softly and slowly savoring the moment of tenderness and warmth between them. When he pulled back, he rubbed his nose with hers and sighed, resting his forehead against hers. "Is this because I've been so restless all day? If so, I'm sorry. I will find something to occupy myself so you're not bothered," he promised with sincerity.

She caressed his cheek and smiled. "It's partly that, but you're not the only one who is growing a little restless. You haven't let me do anything in days. The most exercise I've had this past week is walking up and down the stairs or to the loo. I'm not accustomed to being a woman of leisure and having a handsome butler waiting on me hand and foot."

"And where did you procure this handsome butler of yours? The only man I've seen around here is me, and I certainly wouldn't classify myself as handsome."

Elsie scoffed and shook her head. "Oh, Charlie! You have no idea how some of the women in the village look at you, and even some of those ladies who have been guests at Downton. Do not sell yourself short, love. You are quite the catch, and I'm not just saying that because you're _my_ catch! "

He brought her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "They might think I'm a catch, as you put it, but you're the only woman who had any chance of reeling me in," he said with a sly grin. "What do you say we go into the kitchen and see if we have all the ingredients to bake a cake or shortbread?"

She took a step around him and swatted him playfully on his bottom. "After our walk, Mr. Carson, after our walk. Then, perhaps, depending on how tired we are, I may have a few more ideas on how to entertain ourselves."

He followed her up the staircase and into their bedroom, watching as she began to pull out some of her warmer clothes, extra socks, and a scarf to cover her head and ears. He admired her resolve and her ability to twist him around her little finger. But, more importantly, he loved her and was so very happy being married to her. She happened to look up as that very thought crossed his mind, leaving him with a soppy grin on his face.

"Whatever's that face for, and shouldn't you be layering up? I don't want you catching a chill so make sure to put these on," she said, tossing him another pair of socks and his warmer gloves.

"If you must know, Mrs. Carson, I am smiling because I am married to a beautiful woman who is so determined to go outside during a blizzard that she's willing to forego all common sense and has convinced me to go along with her."

She crossed the room and stood between his legs, looping her arms around his neck and leaning into his body. "You flatter me, darling, but I thank you for it and for going along with me. I think we'll both benefit from the brisk walk in the snow." She leaned down and whispered against his ear. "And later, maybe you can think of a way or two to warm me up. I know I already have an idea or two in mind for you," she said before nipping playfully at his ear lobe.

His arms wrapped around her waist and settled firmly on her bottom, pulling her deeper into his embrace. "I can think of several things and we wouldn't even need to leave this room," he replied with a cheeky grin.

She swatted his chest and gave him a quick kiss to his lips. "You make that sound a little risqué."

"And if I did?" he said, reminding them both of their conversation that day at the beach.

"Then, your wife is going to ask you to hold on to those thoughts. The sooner we take our walk, the sooner we'll be back and can … discuss … your ideas and mine."

After a few more flirty moments and some mild banter later, Charles and Elsie stepped out of their warm little cottage and into the crisp winter atmosphere. Snowflakes were still swirling from the clouds to the ground, adding to the thick blanket of white which already covering the earth. Elsie shivered a little as a strong wind whipped around them, her cheeks feeling bite of the cold Charles had tried to warn her about earlier. Not to be put off, she looped her arm through his and gave him a brilliant smile. "Off we go, Mr. Carson."

Even Charles had to admit that being outside and taking in the sights of the trees covered in snow, their boughs heavily laden with the additional weight, the way the dying daylight cast a magical glow across their path, and the hushed tones of nature, their footsteps crunching in the snow the only real noise to be heard was worth every worry he had about the excursion.

He stole a glance at Elsie, taking in her pink cheeks and the extra spring in her steps. "Are you happy, Elsie, truly happy?" he asked, quite out of the blue.

She paused, halfway down the lane, and turned to face her husband. "What's brought this on?" The look in his eyes told her he was very serious, and he deserved an answer. "I am, Charlie, very happy and not just to be out of the house. I'm happy with us, with our life, with … well, everything. I've never been happier. YOU are the reason. Surely, you must know that." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek then gave his lips a peck.

"I just wanted to make certain, Elsie. I know I grumble from time to time, and I infuriate you on occasion." He held up his hands to squash her rebuttal. "It's true. No sense in denying it," he said with a smile. "Only this afternoon you were ready to throw you book at me. I could see the fire in your eyes. But, I do so love you, you know, with everything in me. I only protested the walk because I was concerned for your health."

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly as the snow began to fall harder. "I understand, and I would have probably fussed about you going out had you just recovered from a cold. I'm sorry I worried you, but thank you for accompanying me on the little trek. I wouldn't have enjoyed it if you'd stayed behind."

He cupped her cheek with his gloved hand. "And I wouldn't have missed walking with my beautiful wife for anything in the world."

"Your wife is getting rather chilled. You were right about it being bitterly cold, though I have an idea that might make us both happy."

He caught the sparkle in her eyes and it reminded him of the way sunlight dances along the snowflakes after the clouds have cleared. "Oh, and what's that, dear? Tea, hot chocolate, something stronger?"

She shook her head and gave him a seductive, knowing look. "I thought that since we were both chilled the bone, we might help get each other warm."

"Go on. I'm listening," he said, already leading her back the house.

"You take care of the brandy and the fire in the bedroom while I run us a hot bath." She bit her bottom lip, knowing exactly what that little act did to her husband. "I'll be waiting for you. Then, while you're washing my back, you can tell me more about this idea you had for staying warm before we took our walk."

Charles and Elsie quickly retraced their steps back to their little love nest having learned a very valuable lesson. Being snowbound wasn't as bad … as long as they were snowbound together.

 **The End.**

 **A/N:** Thanks so much for your support and reviews. I don't know how often this will be updated. That will depend on the Chelsie prompts and how often they inspire me.


	2. Kiss

**Chelsie Prompt: KISS**

** Consider this an "AU" story. Charles and Elsie are happily married, not working in service, but living a wonderful life together.

 **C &E&C&E&C&E**

Moonlight was spilling through the open window, sneaking passed the sheer curtains blowing in the soft, summer breeze. The moon was bright and full, keeping company with a blanket of dazzling stars on a perfect evening. Birds, in the nearby tree outside the window, were just beginning to stir, heralding in a new day, one filled with promise and wonder, excitement and intrigue.

Elsie had begged for the window to be left open so they could enjoy the fresh summer air and the coolness it gave them in the middle of the night. They'd only been in bed for an hour or two, asleep for even less of that time when she had bolted upright in their bed. The sudden movement to his left caused Charles to wake with a start, but one look at Elsie's face, her eyes filled with something he'd never seen before, caused every nerve in his body to quiver. It was time. "Leave the window open and phone for the midwife, please," she had said before easing herself out of bed to begin the preparations while she still had time and energy.

And that was the moment his day has started. Hours and hours ago. Despite the protests of the midwife and her assistant, Charles had refused to leave Elsie's side, for which his wife was grateful. "I was here when the baby was conceived so I will be here when it takes its first breath." And with that, Charles Carson had reassured the three women in the room of his intention to stay. He reached out and gently caressed Elsie's face with his fingertips, smoothing her hair back from her forehead. "The only way I will leave is if my wife asks for me to do so. Please, let me help her through his," he pleaded.

Since that moment, Charles had remained right by Elsie's side, encouraging her and supporting her, physically and emotionally. He was the extra bit of strength she needed when she feared she couldn't go through another contraction. He was easily her loudest cheerleader when she gave yet another mighty push to bring their child into the world. But most of all, he was brave enough for both of them. He dared to stay by her side when many of his gender would have fled, and he promised her that all would be well.

And she believed it, because Charles believed it. Even during the toughest part of her labor, he had reassured her that all would be well and soon, very soon according to the midwife, they would be holding their own little miracle.

"Tell me again, Charles. Tell me about our little one," she panted and pleaded through gritted teeth.

He smiled and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, helping her through yet another pain. "Of course, love." It was something they'd started back when Elsie had first told him they were going to be parents. He had surprised her that evening by whispering the words in their darkened bedroom, thinking she was asleep. Over the course of the next several months, she had repeatedly asked him to recite the words, which he delighted in doing. Sometimes, he would brush his lips against her tummy and speak to the unborn babe. Other times, he would breathe them into her ear or on her neck. He would hold her in his arms and declare them to the darkness or recite them by the lake during a picnic. This time, upon hearing her request, he lowered his lips to her ear and whispered softly so only she could hear.

 _Monday's child is fair of face,  
Tuesday's child is full of grace;  
Wednesday's child is full of woe,  
Thursday's child has far to go;  
Friday's child is loving and giving,  
Saturday's child works hard for its living;  
But the child that is born on the Sabbath day  
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay._

As he finished the last of the poem, Elsie gave a long, hard push and suddenly their lives changed forever. She collapsed into his arms and looked up into his eyes, her own filled with happy tears. "What day is it, Charles?"

He smiled as the baby gave a healthy wail, bringing tears of happiness and smiles to the faces of everyone in the room. "It's Sunday, my love." He gave her a tender kiss to her lips before easing her back against the pillows so she could rest more easily. Leaving her side for only a moment, he crossed the room and saw their child for the very first time.

"Hello, little one," he said, his voice cracking with emotion as tears fell on the knitted blanket. "I'm your Da, and that amazing woman over there is your Mummy." Gently, he picked up the babe in his large, strong hands and cradled it to his chest. "We're ever so happy that you're here," he said, walking back to the bedside so Elsie could see their baby. "Look, Elsie. We have beautiful baby boy," he said, beaming with pride.

Elsie opened her arms and welcomed her son into her embrace for the first time. "Oh, Charles, he's so handsome," she said, running her fingers lightly across his head, through his soft, black hair. "He has your nose and the shape of your eyes …"

"But your lips and fingers," he added. "We've made a perfect little baby boy." Charles eased himself onto the bed beside Elsie, wrapping his wife and his son in his protective arms for the first time that Sunday morning. "I love you, Elsie." He tilted her head back and gently pressed his lips to hers in a tender kiss, pouring all of his love, admiration, and devotion into that single moment.

Elsie smiled and caressed Charles's face. "Little Charlie, your Da and I are so happy you're here. The three of us are going to have such a wonderful life together," she promised her newborn son. And with no prompting at all, both Charles and Elsie leaned forward, each pressing a sweet kiss to their newborn baby's head, silently sealing and strengthening the bond that made them a true family … a family bound by love.

 **A/N:** The poem, _Mondays' Child_ , was first published in England in 1838 and there are several variations to the different days of the week. Thank you so very much for your support. If you have a moment, I would love to hear what you think! xoxo


	3. Swimming

**Swimming:**

Elsie stood at the window and watched as her handsome husband tended to their flower garden in the back yard. He wore a thin white shirt which hugged his body as beads of sweat gave testimony to the hard work he had been doing. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows showcasing his strong arms, now slightly tanned from a summer spent outside instead of held captive in the walls of Downton Abbey. He had opted for dark colored trousers, assuring her that if they were dirty from the soil and his labors, they would be easier to clean or tossed away altogether. And, even in their own private garden, he swore he would not be seen without a matching pair of braces and his well-worn work shoes. His hair at the nape of his neck seemed sopping wet, no doubt from the summer sun and heat, though the brim of his hat shielded his face and eyes from the intense rays.

She had encouraged him to take a break and sit with her on their swing while enjoying some sandwiches and cold ale for lunch. It gave her immense pride to see the look on his face when she complimented him on his intense efforts in the garden. The Damask roses were coming along nicely, as were the foxglove, lavender, primrose, and campanulas. He'd even planted several herbs, which were thriving under his care and green thumb. To his delight, Elsie had praised his efforts so highly that Mrs. Patmore had requested several clippings of various herbs and she had even given Elsie instructions on how to preserve the leaves for use in the winter months.

As they sat and enjoyed the refreshing ale, Charles told her of his future plans for the garden. He wanted to add more blossoming flowers, perhaps a few fruit bearing plants and trees, and, of course, anything else his beautiful bride might wish in her English garden.

She rested her head on his shoulder and surveyed their lovely little patch of heaven on earth in their very own back yard. "I can't imagine anything more beautiful, Charles. You've created a wonderful garden from nothing but grass and soil. And we've herbs put aside for the winter so it's peaceful and functional."

He leaned over and kissed the top of her head and patted her thigh. "True, but I feel like it's missing something. See, over there in the far left corner of the garden? That would be a good spot for something, though I can't think of what to add. That's why I'm asking you, love. What would you like to see there?"

She thought for a long moment, closing her eyes at times to envision the spot in question. "I don't know where we'd find it or if it's even available," she said suddenly, though her voice had a wistful tone to it.

"Tell me. Tell me what it is, and I'll do my best to secure it for your garden paradise." The very idea of gifting Elsie with something she truly desired made his heart skip a beat and his enthusiasm thrive.

"Bell heather, I think. It's always reminded me of the farm, though it might be a bit hard to find here in Yorkshire."

"You leave that to me. I'll see what I can do, and if it's available, you shall have it, my dear."

She stretched up and kissed his cheek, thanking God once more for bringing Charles Carson into her life and for the happiness they now shared. She had wanted to stay longer in the garden with him, but he had insisted that he had work to do and sitting in the swing with his wife was not conducive to his afternoon plans. With a few more kisses to tide her over until he came inside, she reluctantly left him to tend to his garden.

Now, as she stood at the window and watched him, she could see he was growing tired and frustrated, no doubt agitated by the heat as well. Her heart leapt into her throat as she watched his shaking hand lift the watering can. Tears sprang to her eyes as she watched him trying to control the tremor without much success. In the end, he had to use both hands to successfully water the small roses he knew she loved so much.

But the final straw was when she observed him trying desperately use the scissors to cut a few flowers to add to their table at dinner. Since his little garden had started to flourish, he had made quite a show of gifting her with a clipping here or there, a small bouquet, a single rose first thing in the morning, or even a lovely table arrangement. No doubt, this evening, he wanted to present her with a few of the pink and red roses.

Watching him struggle to hold the scissors steady and hearing his frustrated grumblings all the way in the cottage, Elsie decided it was time to intervene. Working quickly, she gathered a few items they'd need from the kitchen, a blanket from the hall closet, and two towels from their bathroom. Making sure she had her key to the cottage, she marched out of the front door, locked the house, and then made her way to the back gate.

"Mr. Carson! Put down your scissors and join me, please."

He looked up, completely startled to hear her voice coming from the side gate. Putting down the scissors and gripping his trembling right hand with his left, he walked to where she stood. "Whatever's all this about?" he asked, pointing to the basket, blanket, and towels.

"It's about a little surprise for you, my dear husband." She reached over and unlatched the gate, taking his hand in hers and guiding him through it before securing it once more. "I've watched you working in this heat all day, and I'm declaring you done for the day. You can pick up where you left off tomorrow, but for the remainder of the day, you're mine. The garden has had you long enough," she declared with an air of possessiveness.

"A little risqué for a summer afternoon, don't you think, Mrs. Carson?" He bent down and kissed her cheek. "Just give me a few minutes to go inside and clean up. I need to change clothes and get my coat and tie."

"You'll do no such thing. You're coming with me just as you are. It's too hot for a coat and tie, and for the trip I have in mind, you are dressed appropriately." Giving him no more time to argue or bluster, she handed him the basket, making sure she pushed it into his left hand while looping her arm through his right one.

"And where are we going, Elsie, that I can simply wander around looking worse than a vagabond? I'm sure I have dirt all over my shirt and face. My hands and hair are a mess, and just look at my clothes."

"We're going to the lake, Charles," she said tenderly. "I thought it might be nice to have a summer picnic down by the lake and watch the sunset. It's much too warm to stay inside this evening, and I've packed us a light supper. Nothing fancy, mind you, but we have enough to eat, and I have wine and some of that chocolate cake from last night."

As they started down the lane, Charles hugged her to his side a little closer. After several moments of silence, he finally asked the question that had been nagging him since they left the cottage behind. "You heard me, didn't you? In the garden, I mean."

She tried to choose her words carefully, knowing how sensitive he was to his ailment. "I know you've been in that garden since a little after breakfast. I know I had to force you to take a break for lunch to sit with me. I know I've missed you while I was doing my housework. But, most importantly, I know how the cool water is going to feel against our skin, the soothing effect it has on us sometimes. That's what I know, Charlie."

That was all the answer he needed. In his heart, he knew she had heard his outburst and most likely seen his attempts at holding the watering can. But his wonderfully caring wife had tried, in her own way, to spare his feelings, and he loved her all the more for it. "Have I told you today how much I love you?" he suddenly asked.

"I believe you said something along those lines this morning as I buttered your toast. Then, there were a few kisses exchanged around lunch time which led me to believe you were quite fond of me, though that could have been because I offered you food and drink. Hmm, come to think of it, Charlie Carson, I don't think you have actually said the words, though there's still time for that before the day is done."

By then, they had reached the lake. Elsie released his arm and took the blanket from him, not stopping until she had found the perfect spot for a picnic. "Here," she declared with confidence. "Close enough to the water to hear it lapping at the shore, enough tree to shade us from the rest of the sun, and we can see the stars and look out at the lake after nightfall."

Charles could only shake his head and follow her to the chosen spot. "Must be the housekeeper still in you," he teased. "You think of everything, love." He dropped a kiss to her shoulder before placing the basket and towels on the blanket. As he began to unpack their things, something very important crossed his mind. "I should have asked before we left the cottage, but did you think to bring bathing attire? I don't see …" He looked up as she gave a very soft giggle. "You don't mean … surely not, Elsie Carson!"

"Keep your trousers on … for now," she teased. "I am planning to swim in my shift, and it won't hurt you to swim in just your pants. We can fold both things away and put our clothes back on for the walk home. Besides, I meant what I said before we left. The water should be nice and warm right before the sun goes down, and we'll surely sleep better after relaxing a bit." She dropped to her knees and began unlacing his shoes and removing his socks for him.

"I love you so very much, Elsie. I don't want you to ever forget that."

"I won't because you remind me in a thousand different ways every single day." She gave him a brilliant smile and a wink. "How about you pull off my shoes, and I'll let you roll down my stockings," she said with a flirty smile and a sparkle in her eyes. It was all the prompting he needed to attend to her needs.

After their satisfying meal and with the bottle of wine now empty, Charles was more relaxed than he had been when they first left the cottage. Elsie was curled up against his side and toying with the buttons on his shirt as they watched the sun begin to slip lower into the sky. "You keep doing that, and I can't be held responsible for what I do, love."

She shifted so she could see his face. "What am I doing, darling?"

"Playing with the buttons on my shirt. You do that at night, sometimes before you get … well, before you initiate …"

She laughed and leaned up on her elbow to look down into his face. "Before I initiate what? Say it, Charlie. What is it that I encourage you to do?"

His cheeks flushed a little as he tried to think of a gentlemanly say to say what he was thinking. The last thing he wanted was to be crude or indelicate.

She watched the emotions playing out across his face and decided to put him out of his misery. She leaned in and whispered into his ear. "Before I tell my husband that I find him incredibly attractive, and I want to make love to him until the wee hours of the morning? Or that it's much too warm to sleep in my gown so I want him to remove it for me? Or that I simply love him and want to show him just how very much I'm glad he loves me … warts and all?"

Charles closed his eyes and groaned as her words had a powerful effect on him. "Yes, all those things and more, Elise. You know how your voice affects me, and I know I'm the happiest and luckiest of men." He opened his eyes to look up into her face, only then realizing that she had already unbuttoned his shirt completely.

She sat up and smiled before slowly unbuttoning her shirt and tossing it to the side. "I think it's time we tested the water, Charles. I am suddenly very warm and think the cool water will be just the thing we need to relax." She stood and slowly let the skirt pool at her feet before moving it to join her shirt, her eyes never leaving his.

No further encouragement was needed for Charles to stand and remove his braces, shirt, vest, and trousers. Standing before her in only his pants, he reached out to cup her cheek with his right hand, now noticeably devoid of the hated tremor. "I think it's time I took my beautiful wife swimming in the moonlight."

She moved her head so she could press a light kiss to his palm. "Not quite moonlight. I think we're somewhere in the twilight hours. I don't care what time of day it is, though. This handsome man I have the privilege of calling my husband has agreed to go swimming with me. I can't think of a better way to end a summer evening." She took his hand in hers and led him into the lake until they were waist deep in the soothing waters.

Once they were on sure footing, Charles slipped his arms around her waist, drawing her flush against his body. With her head tucked beneath his chin, her cheek resting on his warm chest, Charles sighed happily. Her nails were lightly scratching his back and her lips were leaving tiny kisses wherever she could reach.

"Thank you for taking such good care of me. I know this wasn't the original plan this evening, but it's exactly what I needed," Charles admitted softly.

"I think this is what we both needed, Charlie. You've worked so hard to create a beautiful garden for us. I worked just as hard to make us a happy and pretty home. It was time we lived a little this summer. I hope we can do this again soon and not wait until we're at the end of our ropes."

She stepped back from his arms and reached down to take his right hand in both of hers. She brought it to her lips and kissed each of his fingers and his palm before returning their hands to the water. As she had done so many times in the past few months, she massaged his large hand, easing away the tension and completely banishing the trembling … at least for the time being. They both knew it would return, but for now, his grip felt gentle yet firm in her own.

As she tenderly caressed his fingers, Charles dipped his head down and captured her lips with his in a slow, sensual kiss. His tongue swept along her bottom lip, enticing a moan from her throat and allowing him to deepen the kiss. She released his hand from hers and slipped her arms around his neck, her nails lightly teasing the nape of his neck as the kiss progressed almost to the point of no return.

With his soft lips whispering along the long column of her throat, Elsie moaned. "Charlie … " was all she managed to say. She felt him smile against her throat as his hands gripped her bottom firmly. It took all of her resolve to pull back from his arms and his enticing charms. She would succumb to those later, but for now, she wanted one more thing. Completely catching him by surprise, Elsie dropped to her knees and beneath the water before returning with water glistening from every inch of her body. "Your turn," she purred and watched with hungry eyes as he met her challenge.

The sight of the water droplets sliding down his chest, his ruffled hair, and the smirk on his face was her undoing. She threw herself into his arms and kissed him hard, leaving them both breathless. "Mmmm, seems someone is feeling refreshed and happy." His voice rumbled against her body, all the way to her core.

"A few more minutes in the water and then we'll head home. I have other thoughts for the remainder of our night."

He drew her into his arms, holding her close and kissing her forehead and hair. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he began to hum a slow tune that they'd heard on the wireless. It was one that had quickly become a favorite.

Elsie smiled as she recognized the tune he was humming for her as they slowly swayed back and forth in the water, a gentle dance in the cooling waters of the lake. After pressing a kiss over his heart, Elsie began to sing the words to their song.

 _I'll be loving you always  
With a love that's true always.  
When the things you've planned  
Need a helping hand,  
I will understand always._

Always.

Days may not be fair always,  
That's when I'll be there always.  
Not for just an hour,  
Not for just a day,  
Not for just a year,  
But always.

The lovers leisurely strolled home, hand in hand, in the moonlight. Shoes were left by the door. The picnic basket was left, unpacked, on the kitchen table. Towels, wet clothes, and dirty ones were tossed onto the bathroom floor.

Charles led his bride to their marriage bed and spent the remaining hours of the evening cherishing his wife, breathing words of love and adoration against her skin, silently thanking her for taking care of him, promising to worship her with every ounce of his being.

In the morning, he would pay a visit to the Dower house to inquire of the gardener about securing enough bell heather to fill Elsie's little garden with a touch of home.

 **The End!**

 **A/N:** Thank you so much for taking the time to read the story. Please take a moment to leave me a review if you are so inclined. I would love to hear your thoughts!

Also, the song referenced above is called _Always_ and was written by Irving Berlin in 1925 as a wedding gift for his wife in 1926. It was recorded and released on Victor records by George Olsen on February 16, 1926.


	4. Glances Part 1

**Glances … part one**

She steps into the ballroom and surveys her surroundings. She is new to the area, new to most of the people in this room. It is something she relishes. She was able to leave Scotland behind, leave Joe … the kind and caring farmer, leave the hard life that would have pushed her into an early grave. Her hard work and determination have afforded her the reward she has been given this evening. She has been invited to a ball at the Crawley family home, Downton Abbey.

As she looks around at all the new faces, the glittering jewels and the men in fancy attire, her blue eyes land on one man standing off to himself in the far corner of the room. He, like herself, is observing the attendees, making mental notes of what he's seeing and hearing. His eyes finally land on her and she can almost feel them boring into her soul, even at such a great distance. Suddenly, everyone and everything around her fades into obscurity as they study one another.

His hair is black, a little shiny no doubt from the pomade he has used in his hair. She is certain that under different circumstances, though, it would be wild and untamed, thick and luscious. Her fingers itch with a sudden desire to caress the nape of his neck, to slide those fingers into his wavy locks which have been tamed for the evening, allow her nails to gently scratch his scalp.

She also notices his bushy eyebrows. She is almost certain that they have expressions all of their own. Most likely, they have the ability to communicate deep emotions, both joyous and mournful, with the slightest shift up or down. If his brow was furrowed, she is positive she would feel worried, anxious, or angry alongside him. But, this evening, they are simply … there. And, like his hair, they are manicured. Not a single hair is out of place. She can tell simply by this small observation that he takes great pride in his overall appearance, unlike some of the other men in attendance this evening. While the other men in the room are not necessarily unattractive, she simply regards this man as captivating.

Just below those impressive eyebrows are two dark colored eyes. From this distance, she cannot tell the exact shade of them, but she is certain they have the ability to be soft, understanding, kind, but also stern, masterful, hard. The way he held her gaze earlier sets the hairs on the base of her neck on end. It is almost like he is looking straight through her, probing her mind, learning her secrets without ever asking the first question. She is positive, even from just these brief moments, that she would enjoy being lost in those very same eyes, would enjoy having them explore her, perhaps in more intimate ways.

He has a prominent nose reminding her of marble statues she's seen once or twice in her travels. While it is large, it suits his face, and perhaps his personality, perfectly. She wonders if any of his lovers have ever trailed her finger down the slope of his nose and tapped the end of it playfully, perhaps after an evening of lovemaking or flirtatious fun. It's something she would do if given the opportunity.

She slowly moves closer to the man monopolizing her attentions. She speaks to people along the way as she crosses the room in an effort to see him better. She doesn't linger long with any particular person. She does not want him to think she is spoken for or has a keen interest in any of the bachelors vying for her time. No, he has captivated her attention, though she doubts he would notice at all.

From her new vantage point, she falls deeper in lust with this man, though she still knows little about him or his life. His lips and the cleft of his chin are silently begging to be kissed, to be nibbled, to be sampled and savored like a fine wine. Her eyes slip closed as she imagines doing just that … tasting a Margaux from his lips and tongue. Instantly, she begins to feel a heat rising to her chest and face as her mind begins to wander. She cannot remember the last time she has been so affected by a man, especially a complete stranger, though she refuses to deny the pull he seems to have over her.

The tie at the base of his throat looks terribly restrictive, almost painful, though his face shows no signs of discomfort. She knows he is accustomed to this attire, these sorts of gatherings. The dinner party scene may be new to her, but she has no doubts that he has endured countless evenings just like this one. Part of her wonders if his friends have invited him in the hopes of helping him secure a female companion, introducing him to his future wife. She has noticed that during her few moments of observation, he hasn't spoken to anyone aside from the hosts and a few gentlemen who clearly are acquainted with him. Her heart sings a little at the prospect that he is here alone, just like her.

Broad shoulders beneath that black jacket and the overall height of this man send shivers down her spine. She is not a short woman, but he would easily tower over her. It is easy to imagine standing on the tips of her toes and stretching to her full height to kiss his lips. It is just as easy to envision him leaning down, his impressive frame enveloping her as he steals kisses from her rosy lips. She wonders if he would be shy and tentative at first or if he would sweep her off her feet in a wave of passion. Either way, she wouldn't mind. Not with this man. He is so unlike Joe Burns and all the other lads who have tried to woo her and to gain her affections.

Her study of this mysterious man is interrupted by another gentleman. The moment he touches her elbow, she bristles. Something about him instantly puts her on edge, makes her shiver in a completely different way than before. She answers his questions as politely and succinctly as possible, hoping to send him on his way, though he does not take the hint. She is new to him and, unbeknownst to her, he has been making a study of her as she has been with the handsome man across the room. Compliments fall from his lips as water droplets in a waterfall. One look into his eyes tells her all she needs to know. This man, Mr. Horace Bryant, sees her as a new conquest, some trophy to add to his collection. She has seen his kind before. They were not successful and neither will he.

When she has rid herself of his presence, she turns back towards the dark and captivating man she has watched from a distance. However, he is not there. He has disappeared from her sight. Quickly, she scans the room, finding no trace of him. Her heart sinks and curses at the same time. She hopes and prays she has not missed her chance for an introduction, at least a brief moment spent in his company. With the same breath, she curses the Bryant man for dividing her attention, for interrupting her study of this fine specimen of a man.

She steels herself as she prepares to make another round through the room. If she's lucky, she will bump into him, renew her optimism, gain a second chance. But, before she can take the first step, her heart leaps in her throat as a deep, rich voice sounds beside her ear.

Every nerve in her body cries out in reaction to the voice. His words rumble through her body like an earthquake, shaking her to her very foundation. His cologne is masculine, very appealing, and intoxicating. A deep breath and she commits the scent to memory. With each word he utters, her legs grow weaker and weaker. She does not wish to appear that way in his eyes. She twists her upper body slightly and is thrilled to find it is the man of her dreams. He is standing a breath away from her and she is not disappointed by the closer vision of him.

His eyes lock with hers and so many words are spoken though never uttered between them. Yes, he is single. No, she is not engaged or walking out with anyone. He has watched her watching him. She's apologetic that she was not bolder, did not approach him sooner. They both silently agree that Mr. Bryant was a little too close for her comfort and for his.

His long fingers are bold as they glide along the inside of her arm near the bend of her elbow. Her breath hitches in her throat at the contact and the heat rising within her. She marvels at how reverent his touch seems to be and how it awakens her in ways no other has ever done before. He leans down until his cheek is nearly touching hers, and she can feel the warmth from his breath across her neck. And then he speaks.

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Charles Carson."

A name! She smiles at the way he has chosen to introduce himself to her. Her heart and her body approve of his method.

"Good evening, Mr. Charles Carson. My name is Elsie Hughes."

And with that introduction, they both understand that their fates are sealed, their lives are intertwined forever. And all it took was one glance.

 **The End**

 **A/N:** This was written in response to the Chelsie Prompt of "Glances" and the photo used for inspiration for this story can be found on my Tumblr (Chelsie Carson). Thank you for reading, and if you have time, I would love to hear your thoughts on the story!


	5. Glances Part 2

**Glances, Part Two**

He looks up in the direction of the main doors just as she appears. She is bathed in light from the foyer and from the wall sconces to her left and right. It gives her an unearthly glow, a magical warmth that invades his body even from across the room. He licks his lips, which have unexpectedly gone dry. And, suddenly, he finds he cannot look away, cannot tear his gaze from her as she fully enters the room.

She glides with grace and poise across the floor until she reaches the host and hostess of the party. Her smile is infectious as those in her immediate presence suddenly seem livelier, happier than they were only seconds before. He wonders if this is just her nature or if she has said something amusing, something deliciously funny. As the host kisses her cheek fondly, she leans in to him, but there is nothing untoward about the actions, his or hers. It is merely a greeting, a warm welcome to their guest. In the next moment, he is watching as the hostess hugs the beautiful woman before she takes her leave of them.

She procures a glass of white wine from a passing waiter and scans the room. Perhaps she is looking for a familiar face or maybe a quiet corner in which she can retreat. He thinks she might be partial to observing rather than participating fully in these sort of affairs. He has no doubts that she could mingle with any member of society, though she strikes him as someone who is more comfortable in the shadows, not hiding, merely surveying with a discerning eye. He grins as realization dawns upon him. He is doing this very same thing now, watching her from a safe and secluded corner, appreciating her from afar.

As he suspects, she has positioned herself in a less populated area of the room. As she sips her glass of wine, her eyes travel over the other guests. He smiles to himself, wondering if she is making mental notes of the interactions of the others. Does she notice how Mr. Bryant has abandoned his wife and is flirting, rather boisterously, with the pretty brunette in the shocking red dress? Has she seen the way the lady dressed all in pink is making eyes at the butler who is almost twice as tall as she? He finds both of those situations amusing and is curious to hear her thoughts on the situations. He can easily imagine them at a party, together, and making these quaint observations about the other attendees from their little hideaway in an unobserved part of the room. Maybe, on the drive home, they would share a laugh or simply be grateful that they are together, not having to deal with unwanted advances or attentions.

As he studies this lovely woman from across the room, he is stuck by her beauty. Her hair, not quite blonde, not fully brunette, maybe a hint of auburn if the lights aren't playing tricks on his eyes, is luminescent. The lights from above are shining down, casting a glow about her. Even from this distance, he can make out the different shades of color in her hair, and he yearns to discover for himself the softness of it. What would it feel like brushing against his cheek as he hugged her from behind? Would it tickle his nose as he buried his face in her hair in an effort to place a teasing kiss to her ear, or the spot just below? Would she giggle or moan in delight as his lips reached their destination?

That thought spurs others to the forefront of his mind. His eyes are drawn to the softness of her shoulders, her creamy skin exposed just a bit from the dress she is wearing. He wants to run his fingers lightly down her slender throat, along her shoulders, across her collarbones. His touch would be as light as a feather and reverent, only ever wanting to bring her pleasure from his touch. He swallows hard as his mind creates a beautiful image, a wish. He wants to hear her breath hitch in her throat from his touch, to watch as her eyes flutter closed in happiness and contentment, safety and love.

Love. Until now, he has not dared to look at her hands, no doubt dainty and delicate. He is almost afraid to look, afraid of seeing a band of gold, a sparkling diamond meaning she has given her love and her heart to someone. But, if he is to continue to admire her, he must know, for he would never dream of doing to another what Alice and Grigg did to him in his youth.

As if on cue, she raises her hand to brush a lock of hair behind her ear. He thanks every star in the sky that she uses her left hand, though he is almost certain she is right-handed. Even from his safe distance, he can see no ring on her finger, only a delicate bracelet hugging her wrist. Her nails are not polished, either. It is something he finds curious but appreciates. So many of the women in his acquaintance use bright colors, sometimes patterns, on their nails. It is not for him to judge or have an opinion on such matters, but there is an allure for him to a woman with clear nail polish and perhaps a tantalizing color on her toes, a hidden splash of color on he would be privy to seeing. However, if this woman was interested in him, he wouldn't care if she painted her entire body … as long as she loved him and received his love in return.

He is so fascinated by her that he dares to leave his comfort zone and walk closer to her. He wants to know the sound of her voice, to be able to make a mental image of her from head to foot. But, most of all, he wants nothing more than a moment of her time. He would be surprised to learn that she has no suitor waiting for her at home, no lover eager for her return. He will, before the night has ended, learn her name, a little more about her. It would be a pleasure to hear those things from her own sweet lips, but if he must ask the host, then so be it. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, he believes, and it has been such a long time since he has been interested enough to venture into the murky waters of dating, love, and relationships.

From his new position in the room, he is afforded a new glimpse of her. She is slender and clearly takes good care of herself. Her arms are well toned, from what he can tell by looking at the sheer sleeves of her dress. The sequins sparkle in the light, giving her a radiance that she would no doubt possess even if she were wrapped in a plain white sundress on a summer day. It doesn't take long for his eyes to drift down her body, appreciating every feminine curve, every hidden secret held securely beneath this black sequined dress. Once again, his mouth goes dry as he drinks in the sight of this amazing woman. Truly, he has never been this affected by anyone in his life.

And then it happens, and he is left speechless, thoughtless. Her smoldering eyes lift and meet his, holding his gaze for a long moment. His breathing pauses. His heart leaps into his throat, pounding out a rhythm that makes his entire body hum. She appraises him carefully, and he tries his best to remain calm, allow her time make a move towards or away from him. He will respect her decision, whatever that may be. She owes him nothing, but he would gladly give her the world should she ask.

She smiles at him and tilts her head to right ever so slightly. He notices how her eyes look seductive, alluring, tempting. He could easily get lost in those eyes, that spellbinding look. Then, the moment between them is broken, gone like a vapor.

Mary, the daughter of the host and hostess is at his side and talking about her latest love interest. He is only partially listening about some blonde haired lad named Matthew, and he turns, only for a moment, to give her his heartfelt congratulations and to remind her of the importance of moving slowly, cautiously to protect the heart. When he returns his gaze to the mystery woman, she is gone, and his heart sinks. He is fairly confident that she has not left the party, but he suddenly feels at a loss, like a part of himself is now missing. Silly, he admonishes himself. He doesn't even know her name, and yet he is feeling lonelier than before.

He kisses Mary on the cheek and promises to catch up with her soon for a cup of tea, his treat, and then makes his way out to the balcony. He needs to clear his head, take a moment to gather his thoughts and his wits about him. He stands at the edge, lifts his head up to the blanket of stars, and breaths deeply. Once. Twice. Three times … and there is a distinct change in the air.

It is jasmine and heather. He doesn't know how, but he knows that is the scent. It's intoxicating, delicate, feminine. Then, like a spark from an electrical outlet, he feels it. It starts in the center of his back and courses through his body like a bolt of lightning. Her hand is on the center of his back, lightly touching him to gain his attention.

His head whips around and suddenly he is staring into the bluest eyes he's ever seen. They are the same color of the sky on a summer day, a glassy pond, a favorite flower … a baby blue eye. He cannot think of a single thing to say to open a conversation with her, though she has sought him out, followed him to this quiet little haven. He turns so that he is facing her fully, waiting eagerly to hear what she has to say, to hear her sweet voice for the first time.

Without any warning, she reaches down and takes his left hand in hers. She studies it for a brief moment. He watches her intently, the way she strokes his hand with tenderness, her fingertips brushing across his skin and leaving little sparks in their wake. He has yet to think of a single word to say to her, though she obviously has no need for pretty words at this moment either. She gives his hand a squeeze, then looks up into his eyes.

"I'm glad I found you," she says softly, her accent exciting him, giving him another reason to be enamored by her.

"I thought I had lost you," he replies without thinking, knowing in his heart she was never his to lose in the first place.

She laughs, a deep, throaty laugh, a seductive tone filling his hears, causing his pulse to quicken. "I'm Elsie Hughes. Would you care to dance?"

There is no music filtering from the main room, no violins playing in the courtyard, though he can think of nothing more than dancing with this temptress. "I'm Charles Carson, and I thought you'd never ask."

His arms slip around her waist, resting at the small of her back, drawing her as closely as he dares into his embrace. Her arms glide over his chest and wrap around his neck, her fingertips barely brushing the nape of his neck. As they start to sway, she begins to hum a tune. He is almost certain it is Clair de Lune, and that is when he knows she has his heart forever.

He bends down so that his lips brush lightly against her ear, and he smiles as his hair does, indeed, tickle his nose. "Promise me we will dance to this on our honeymoon," he says as they move slowly to her humming.

As she reaches the end of the song, she pulls back and looks deeply into his eyes. "Promise me you will always look at me as you did tonight, like I was the most beautiful woman in the world."

"With you by my side, I have no need to look at anyone else, Elsie Hughes, and, to me, you are the most amazing woman in the world."

She stands on her tiptoes and kisses him sweetly on the lips. "I will always be on your side, Charles Carson. I'm ever so glad I caught your attention this evening."

"One look at you, and I was hopelessly lost … with just one glance."

 **A/N:** Thank you so much for your response to **Glances Part One**. I hope you enjoyed this one from Charles's point of view. If you feel so inclined, I'd love to hear your thoughts! A picture of what "Elsie" looks like in this prompt can be found on my Tumblr page (Chelsie Carson). xxx


	6. Whiskers

**Whiskers:**

Elsie took a deep breath and sighed happily, wiggling her toes as she stretched out on the sofa and enjoyed a few quiet moments to herself. The windows of their little cottage were all raised, letting in the soft summer breeze while the birds singing outside offered up the sweetest music to entertain her. The new sheer white curtains which she'd made a few days ago flapped back and forth gently as if the entire house was taking a deep breath and exhaling it slowly in time with her own deep breaths. The smell of a peach pie floated into the sitting room from the kitchen causing Elsie to smile proudly. Glancing at the clock on the mantle, she reasoned that it had only about ten more minutes before it would need to be removed from the oven and set on the side table to cool. It was to be her little surprise for Charles since he had gone to all the trouble of picking the peaches from trees at the home farm.

Charles had decided to spend some time down by the lake, hoping to catch some fish for their supper, though he had warned Elsie not to start any preparations until he was back with the catch. Since Thomas Barrow had stepped in as the butler of Downton Abbey, Charles Carson had started doing more things which gave him pleasure instead of what was to be expected of a servant. It made Elsie incredibly happy to come home some days to hear her husband snoring in his chair or even humming as he puttered around in their little garden.

Since the family was away in London for the season and Miss Baxter had taken on the role of housekeeper, Elsie had taken several weeks away from the house. She and Charles had spent the first week unpacking the forgotten boxes and rearranging a few odds and ends. She had grown to love the idea of being a housewife, managing her own home, and tending to the needs of her husband and her husband alone. And, for his part, Charles was more than thrilled to have Elsie around the house more and more. Upon the return of the family, Elsie would retire and join her husband in their new life of leisure. This little taste of heaven was merely the beginning of their married life, and they couldn't have been happier.

One more glance at the clock reminded Elsie that it was time to remove the peach pie from the oven and that Charles should be returning home soon. She had hoped, for his sake as much as hers, that he'd been successful with his fishing. Still, even if they only had a light supper, it was something they would make together and enjoy as husband and wife.

She had just placed the pie on the counter to cool when she heard the front door open and Charles's humming replaced the birdsong which she'd enjoyed for most of the afternoon. She smiled and quickly wiped her hands on the dish towel and turned just in time to be wrapped up in a loving embrace by her husband.

"Mmm, how I missed you today," he whispered against the side of her neck as he backed her up against the small counter in their kitchen.

"Maybe you shouldn't have stayed away all day, then, Mr. Carson," she countered, tilting her head a little more to the right so he could pay proper homage to the spot just below her left ear.

"I wanted to make my wife proud by bringing home something for her to cook," he answered, slipping his hand around her waist and cupping her bottom. "Though, at the moment, cooking is the last thing on my mind."

Elsie giggled and pushed him back a little so she could catch her breath. "So, Charlie, tell me … what is on your mind?"

He took both her hands in his and began backing out of the kitchen and towards the sitting room. "Well, you see, while I was sitting on the bank, all alone, I had a lot of time to think." He continued to walk backwards until he was standing in front of the sofa Elsie had occupied only a short while ago. "And while I was on that bank, my thoughts drifted to home and the beautiful wife waiting for me. I remembered the way she kissed me, moved with me, and cried out my name. My mind recalled how lovely she looks when the moonlight spills in through the bedroom window and bathes her in moonbeams. And then, all I could think was why on earth I was sitting on a bank all alone when I could be home ravishing my wife."

She shook her head and grinned. "Is this your way of telling me you were unsuccessful at fishing today?" Far be it from Elsie to pass up an opportunity to tease her easily flustered husband.

"The fish are outside waiting to be cleaned, which I will do in due course before I take a bath. But I was serious, Elsie. I had a lot of time to think on that bank and you were in every single one of those thoughts."

"I'm flattered, Charlie," she said, reaching up and running her fingers through his hair. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him softly at first then more deeply as his lips began to glide over hers, his hands roaming over her body and exciting her with every caress. Before she had a chance to think, Charles led her to the sofa and helped her stretch out, just as she had been lounging before. He studied her for a long moment, his Scottish lass with her dark hair, her sparkling blue eyes, creamy complexion, and pink lips. Suddenly, his need to claim her, to remind her of his vows to worship her with his body, to see her come undone beneath him was too great.

He dropped to his knees beside her and began to slowly trace a deliberate path from her ankles up her shapely legs using only his fingertips. When he reached her knees, he paused in his exploration and shifted so that he was now kneeling between her legs on the opposite end of the sofa. Silently, he asked for permission to continue, and it was eagerly granted. With a broad smile, Charles lowered himself to her knees and replaced his fingertips with his lips and tongue, intent of completing the journey towards the prize awaiting him.

Elsie watched him with increasing passion. She tried desperately to remain in control of her body, her breaths, and her rapidly beating heart though to no avail. She sighed softly as his hands left her legs and began to deftly unbutton the fastenings of her blouse, slowly peeling away the fabric from her torso, breasts, and sides. The warm breeze from the window caressed her skin, and she was never more grateful that she had finally abandoned the bloody corset and opted for prettier and more easily removed undergarments.

Charles growled as he watched his wife open her arms to him, inviting him into her embrace. But, he had other plans in mind. Slipping his fingers beneath the waistband of her skirt and knickers, he slowly slipped them down her legs and dropped them beside the couch before taking her left leg in his hands and bringing it up to his face. Softly, he rubbed his cheek against her calf as he stared into her darkening eyes. He was not prepared for the sound she emitted.

"Did you just giggle, Elsie Carson?" he asked as he slipped her knee onto his shoulder and took her right leg in his hands, intent of giving it the same treatment.

"It tickles," she managed to say just before he repeated the action with her other leg, coaxing yet another burst of laughter from her.

He gave her a mischievous smile. "Does it, indeed? I had no idea," he said with mock innocence.

"Oh, I think you do," she countered, reaching out to run her fingers across his cheek, taking note of the soft whiskers.

"Any complaints, then?" he asked before nipping her inner thigh then soothing it with his skilled tongue.

She took a deep breath and let it out very slowly, humming as she did so. "Only if you stop," she said before losing all coherent thoughts. She allowed her head to fall back against the arm of the sofa, her arms over her head and gripping the edge. While his lips and tongue worked to bring her as much pleasure as possible, his hands slipped up her body and began to gently knead her breasts. In no time at all, she had unclasped the offending garment and removed it and her shirt, tossing both to the floor beside her.

With his beautiful wife bare before him, Charles quickly shed his clothing and returned to pleasuring Elsie. He took his time, drawing out her happiness and excitement as much as possible, finding all of the places she found erotic, and enjoying it as she grew closer and closer to her release. But both of them were unprepared for her tipping point. With his lips bathing her breasts, Elsie found the tickling sensation of his warm breath, his lips, his tongue, and his whiskers to be her undoing.

"The whiskers … they tickle … and oh, Charlie, my Charlie," she cried out as her body shook with a powerful release. He continued to kiss and caress her until she was well and truly sated before scooting back on the sofa, his head resting on her stomach.

"Did you enjoy that, love?" he asked with a sigh as her fingers lazily carded through his hair. "It certainly was enjoyable for me to watch you come undone like that."

"I don't know why but that was certainly intense, love. I feel like a little puddle. I don't want to move."

"Nor do you have to at the moment, though I think we'd both be more comfortable in bed."

"I still have to make your dinner. You still have fish to clean and a bath to take," she gently reminded him.

"Let's stay right here for a bit, first. No need to rush anywhere. We've got all the time in the world."

She closed her eyes and relaxed, her mind reliving the moments they had just shared together. Several quiet moments had passed before she suddenly found herself laughing, softly at first and then more loudly.

"What's so funny?" he asked, turning his head slightly and looking into her face.

"Just being naughty, I suppose."

"Naughty? Do tell, Mrs. Carson. Your husband is all ears."

She felt a faint blush creep over her, though why it was there she wasn't sure. It wasn't as if she had anything to be embarrassed about since they were well and truly married. "I suppose I was just wondering …"

"Yes," he asked, shifting so that his chin was now resting on her bare stomach, his fingertips lazily running up and down her sides, occasionally causing her to squirm.

"You didn't shave this morning."

"Yes, we've established that," he replied, moving his chin against her stomach so she could be reminded of his stubble.

"That's an impressive set of whiskers you've got after not shaving for just one day."

"One day old stubble does not a bearded man make, love. What's your point?"

She lowered her eyes and stared at him seductively. "I was simply wondering how it might be if you didn't shave for a week or more. Several men in our acquaintance have mustaches, some even have beards."

He chuckled softly and moved up her body until he could rub his cheeks against her bare breasts. "Is that something you'd like, Elsie? Would you like me to grow a mustache or beard just for you, for your … pleasure?"

She shivered beneath him, the very idea of experimenting with him exciting her even now. "You could always shave it off whenever you wanted," she offered. "And the family won't be back for a few more weeks. Plenty of time to return to the respectable, clean shaven Charles Carson before we see them again."

"You'll hear no arguments from me, love. Though you must promise me that if it starts to grow and you don't like it … for whatever reason," he said, giving her a pointed look, "you must tell me immediately. If it makes you uncomfortable in any way, I'll shave it off with no hesitation."

She grinned like the cat that got the canary. "And what would you like in return, Charlie? Surely, there's something I can do for you in return." She trailed her index finger down his impressive nose, tapping it on the end once before trailing it over his lips and throat. She saw him swallow hard and heard his breathing change.

"Maybe a trip to Ripon to visit that ladies store. I'd like to buy you some nice, soft nightgowns, more undergarments like these," he said, nodding his head towards the ones on the floor.

"That's lovely, but it would benefit me more than you. That wouldn't be terribly fair."

He shook his head and reached up to cup her cheek. "Trust me, I would get a great deal of enjoyment from those, too, though if you wanted to throw in an apple or peach pie more frequently, I wouldn't say no."

She laughed and pulled him up for a kiss. "Why don't we get those fish cleaned and you in the bath. When you're done, we can sit down to a nice dinner and continue our little discussion."

"Have I told you lately how much I love you, Mrs. Carson?"

"No, not in the last few minutes, but you certainly show me in a thousand little way every single day, and that's more than I ever thought I'd have in my life."

"I love you, Elsie, so very, very much."

"And I love you, too, Charlie. Now, go get those fish cleaned so I can start our supper," she said gently pushing him up so they could both sit on the couch. She kissed him quickly on the cheek and laughed. "Then, it's in the bath with you … and remember … no shaving those whiskers, Mr. Carson! That face and those whiskers are mine."

 **The End.**

 **A/N:** Thank you so much for reading my response to the Chelsie Prompts series. This one was Whiskers. If you're so inclined, I'd love to hear what you think about the story in a review. HUGS!


	7. Bicycle

**Built For Two**

Charles stared at his reflection in the mirror and smiled broadly at the man staring back at him. He was a man in love with his beautiful wife, a man who had well and truly pleasured her until she was clutching at his back and crying out his name only an hour before. The person he saw in the mirror was not the same butler from even two years ago. That persona had been relegated to the past while the new Charles, the husband and lover, had emerged victorious in the struggle for the future.

The tips of his ears burned a little as he noted a small red mark on his collarbone. He would tease Elsie when he went downstairs for breakfast, though he couldn't tease too much. He was sure that, upon inspection, she would find a similar mark or two on her breast or the inside of her thigh. He felt a surge of pride knowing that his wife of exactly one year found him so irresistible and enjoyed all of his attentions, both in and out of their bedroom.

Today was slightly different, though. He wanted everything about this day to be perfect. It was their one year wedding anniversary, and he had something special planned. He wasn't at all sure she would appreciate the gesture or the gift, though he had poured a great deal of thought into the purchase as well as money. Jewelry, perfumes, and clothing had all crossed his mind as an anniversary gift, but those had been quickly discarded. Elsie needed no jewelry to keep her happy and perfumes and clothing were nothing special. He could gift her with those any day of the year with little or no reason other than to simply spoil the woman he loved.

As his mind drifted back to the day he'd made the final decision, the lovely sound of his wife's singing drifted up the stairs and caressed his ears. She was happy. He could almost hear the smile in her voice, and if he closed his eyes, he could easily envision her puttering around in their small kitchen as she prepared the morning tea, toast, and eggs. As he finished dressing and started downstairs towards the melodic sound of his wife's voice, Charles sent up a silent prayer that his gift would be well received and Elsie would enjoy the remainder of her surprises for the day.

"There you are," she said with a broad smile on her face as he descended the stairs. "I thought you might have gone back to bed when I left you to get dressed." She stretched on her tiptoes and kissed him sweetly on the lips.

"I would have gladly stayed in bed with you all day, Mrs. Carson, but we have other plans for this glorious morning."

She wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled into his arms. "I don't know about that. My morning began with a grand display of affection from a certain handsome husband of mine. I don't know how the day could get any better."

He gave her a little squeeze and dropped his head so he could nuzzle the side of her neck, whispering softly against her sensitive skin. "You'll simply have to wait and see," he promised before nipping her earlobe and giving her bottom a tender pat.

"You keep that up and the outside world can wait until tomorrow to see us," she sighed, enjoying his touch and attentions.

He caressed her lips with his for a long moment then pulled back to brush his nose against hers. She was all warmth and happiness, sunshine and a summer breeze all rolled into one perfect flower and he marveled at her giving nature and the way she made him feel, even with just a few simple words. "You are irresistible in most instances, love, but you shall have to indulge me today. I have plans for our anniversary, though you must promise me that if you don't like my gift, you will tell me straight away. I don't want you to feel you have to pretend for my benefit."

She shook her head and took his hand, leading him to the table where she had plated their breakfast. "I am sure I will love whatever it is you have planned. In all the years I've known you, you've never …"

He raised an impressive eyebrow at her, almost daring her to finish that sentence. "Need I remind you that it was your idea to go to the beach that summer, not mine? I would have dragged everyone to some museum or the Crystal Palace, thus ensuring that you saw me as the most boring man in your acquaintance."

Elsie reached over and gave his hand a squeeze. "I was going to say, before you so rudely interrupted me, that you've never done anything by halves. If you've planned something, it's because you've given it careful consideration and worked out all of the finer details." She gave him a piercing look which dared him to challenge her on the matter. "Now, eat your breakfast before it gets colder. I can't speak for you, but I certainly worked up an appetite this morning," she said with a wink and a sly grin.

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers and conveying his heartfelt gratitude that she was his and his alone.

For the third time since they'd started eating their breakfast, Charles made a note of the time. When he snapped the pocket watch closed and slipped it back into his pocket, he looked up to see Elsie staring at him with a confused look on her face.

"Somewhere important to be this morning or are you simply bored to tears already?" Before he could answer her, a small bell chimed outside and the sounds of someone running down the path could be heard inside the cottage.

"Finally!" he muttered under his breath before looking over and catching Elsie's confused look. "That bell signals the arrival of your anniversary gift," he said proudly. He stood up and took both of her hands in his, pulling her into a warm embrace. "This has been the happiest year of my life, Elsie, and it's all thanks to you and your unending love for me. Thank you for making me happier than I ever thought possible." He kissed her soundly on the lips then pulled her in the direction of the door. "Close your eyes, please," he asked before he opened the cottage door.

Excitement bubbled inside her and her heart beat a little faster in her chest. He had just lavished her with high praise and was now about to gift her with something wonderful he had chosen for their special day. Not for the first time that morning, she sent up a prayer of thanksgiving for the man standing before her and the love that blossomed between them. "Very well, but you'll have to hold my hand to keep me steady," she said with a small laugh, wondering if he would remember the words she'd spoken to him years before.

Images of their beachside paddle and the moment he realized he was falling in love with his best friend floated through his mind. Without a moments' hesitation, he slipped his arm around her waist and drew her into his side. "I'll do more than hold your hand, Elsie. You can lean on me and trust that I would never let you fall." His hand was warm on the side of her hip, his broad chest serving as a solid reminder that he was her greatest protector and strongest supporter.

For a moment, Elsie simply nestled into his side, taking pleasure from his touch, his scent, his entire being. This was the one person who knew her like no other, her happiness and heartaches, her darkest worries and greatest triumphs. Charles, whether he realized it or not, was the sole owner of her heart, completely and for all time. She dared to look up at him only to find his eyes boring into her own, a silent tome of love being uttered between them.

It was Charles who finally broke the spell between them. "Your surprise awaits," he said with a hoarse voice. He cleared his throat, hoping to mask the passionate nature of the emotions he was feeling for his wife. He needn't have worried, though, for she was always aware of his moods and thoughts. He knew that, most likely, she had felt the intensity of the moment and had she needed to speak, her voice would have been a little weakened.

Dutifully, Elsie closed her eyes and grasped Charles's hand in hers. "Lead on, Mr. Carson. You shouldn't keep a lass waiting, especially on her anniversary."

"Ah, but sometimes the anticipation of what is it come makes the moment all the more powerful," he whispered daringly into her ear. His breath was warm on the shell of her ear, causing her to shiver as his double meaning registered with her … body, mind, and soul. He dropped a kiss to her cheek then shuffled them both closer to the door.

The warmth of the sunshine and the cool breeze caressed her face as she allowed Charles to guide her outside of their home and just a few steps from the cottage door. Since her eyes were closed, her other senses were heightened, and she was delighted by the new appreciation for the world around her. The birds seems happier with their songs … more vocal, slightly louder, and even closer than ever before. The heady scent of her roses along the front of the house and over the garden wall were almost overwhelming. She walked by them every single day, though this was the first time she had truly noted their invigorating smell. Suddenly, she had an urge to bury her nose into one of the fullest blooms and inhale its aroma until there was no room left in her lungs.

Charles watched Elsie with keen interest. The moment she stepped outside, he watched her face, at first to make sure she wasn't peeking, then to observe her embracing the moment. Her lush lips curled into a beautiful smile, one that spoke of pure happiness and contentment. Her chest expanded with her deep breaths and her slow exhale reminded him of passionate nights when she was so sated she could barely move. As her head tilted back, no doubt in take in the sunshine on her face, he noted the relaxed posture of her entire body, as if nothing could be more perfect than this one moment in time … with him.

Elsie felt him move from her side, though his hands never left her body. But before she could ask where he was going, she felt his arms slip around her waist from behind, his chin resting comfortably on her shoulder. The length of his body pressed against her back, once again reminding her of the many ways her husband showered her with his attentions and love.

"You may open your eyes now, Elsie."

Slowly, she did as he asked and was utterly surprised at what was in front of her. Never, in her wildest imaginings, did she anticipate such a gift. There, leaning against their cottage wall was a tandem bicycle with a pretty royal blue bow, complete with a little silver bell on the handlebar and a wicker basket in front.

"Charles? Is … is this ours?"

Suddenly, his idea didn't seem like such a grand gesture, and he felt waves of nervousness coursing through his veins. "It is. Well, it doesn't have to be. I thought, you see … perhaps this wasn't a good gift idea. I still have time to go into the village and purchase something more appropriate for …"

She turned in his arms and silenced him with a kiss, nothing passionate or heated, a simple kiss to his lips to stop him from rambling on any further. When she pulled back, she rested her hands on his chest. "It's a lovely gift and I am very excited about it. I'm merely shocked. I never have thought you'd want to cycle, much less with me in tow."

Charles relaxed visibly and his panic began to ease a little. "I was hoping that with summer upon us, we might make use of the bike, what with you retiring at the end of the month. We could cycle into the village or down to the lake. We might even ride up to Downton Abbey so you can visit with Mrs. Patmore …"

"Or you can check in on Thomas to see how he's faring, or to catch up with Lady Mary and little Caroline Violet Talbot. I know how much you've missed seeing them."

Charles looked down at his feet and sighed softly. "It's not every day that a grand lady of the house decides to name her little girl after the butler. I still cannot believe she did such a thing."

Elsie gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. "I can, and it was a lovely gesture. You nurtured that girl through some of the roughest parts of her life, and I'm touched that she would honor you in such a profound way. You deserve it." She stretched on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Though enough of Lady Mary and Thomas. Your wife would like to know our plans for the day considering we have this wonderful new bicycle, and I have no idea how we're supposed to use it."

For the next half hour, Charles explained, in greater detail than Elsie ever thought possible, about the mechanics of the bicycle, balancing, the captain and the stoker positions, pedaling, and any number of safety issues he thought she might need to know. By the end of his instructional speech, she was well and truly ready to hop on the bike and pedal away.

"If you're sure you'd like to try this, Elsie, I'd like to take you down to the lake. We could sit on the dock and enjoy the warmth of the day. I had planned to bring a book of poems with me and a blanket. We could cycle down there and spend the day by the water. Of course, if you've something else in mind you'd rather do today, then the bike outing to the lake can wait."

"It most certainly will not. I am eager to try out my anniversary gift, and with the promise of a blanket, some poetry, and my handsome husband down by the lake, how is a girl supposed to refuse that offer? You go grab that book, and I'll see about pulling together some quick sandwiches to take with us. Nothing fancy but at least we won't starve."

Charles's eyes shone with delight. "No need to go to the trouble. I was going to surprise you with the second part of the plan, but there will be a picnic basket waiting for us by the lake. I asked the stable boy who delivered the bike to drop it off on his way here. Daisy was supposed to pull together a few things for us to enjoy."

"You really thought of everything. I'm a lucky lass, Charlie Carson."

After more than a few wobbly starts and stops, the pair finally settled into a nice rhythm. With Charles being the captain and Elsie as the stoker, they soon settled into their roles and made quick time to the lake. At one point during the ride, Elsie felt steady enough and brave enough to slip her hand beneath Charles's waistcoat, lightly scratching his back through his shirts and causing them both to wobble from the distraction.

"You shouldn't do things like that, Elsie. I could have caused us to tip over. You could be seriously hurt!" he'd admonished lightly, though he had enjoyed the unexpected touch of his wife.

"I trust you to keep us on course, Charlie. You'd never let me fall. Besides, sitting here behind you and admiring your strong legs, that broad back, and that nice bum … it was too good of an opportunity to resist," she teased, leaning forward slightly and resting her cheek against his back for a brief moment.

"If the view is so good, perhaps we should switch positions on the way home. I'm sure I would find it most satisfying," he replied with a roguish tone to his voice.

"Absolutely not! I have plans for us later tonight so that means we both have to make it home unscathed. If you put me in charge of this bike and you decide to explore the view in front of you, we might be in for a serious fall. I have no desire to spend my anniversary evening with Dr. Clarkson!"

Charles shuddered at the though and pedaled just a bit harder. The sooner they reached the lake, the sooner he could take his wife in his arms and kiss her senseless.

Later that evening, as the moon cast a soft glow about their bedroom, Charles and Elsie lay skin to skin, tired from the excitement and exertion from the day. The gift of the tandem bicycle and the surprise picnic had been a complete success which pleased him more than words could express. Elsie, too, had managed to surprise and delight her husband with her gift. Tomorrow, they would take a leisurely stroll into town and visit Mr. Harris. By the end of the following day, Charles would be the proud owner of a little puppy, something he had longed for since he was a lad.

"How on earth will we ever top our first anniversary, Elsie?" he asked as he dropped a kiss to her bare shoulder, drawing her even closer to him as they cuddled.

"We mustn't look at it as a competition, Charlie. Each day is a treasured gift, and we should treat it as such. I will worry about next year's anniversary when it comes. Until then, I promise to make it my goal to show you in big and small ways every day how much I love you."

"Right you are, as usual, love. And tomorrow, our little family will grow by one. Thank you again for fulfilling yet another of my dreams."

She tilted her head so she could see him properly. "You are my dream, Charles Carson … my dream come true."

"Says the woman who stole my heart away," he countered before drawing the blankets over them a little more as they fell into a deep slumber filled with happy dreams of a glorious sun kissed day.

 **The End!**

 **A/N:** This story was written for the Chelsie Prompt of a bicycle or bike shed, etc. I hope you've enjoyed what you've ready and would love to hear what you think of the story. Please, consider leaving a review. It would make my day!


	8. Linens

**Linens:**

It was a beautiful spring day and Charles Carson was stuck inside, much to his dismay. He longed to be outdoors in the sunshine, fresh air, and the cooling breeze with his wife. If he closed his eyes, he could easily see them enjoying a quiet morning sitting on the swing in the garden, reading a novel, or simply listening to the birds singing as they basked in the sunshine. But, regardless of the longing in his heart and mind, he would have to postpone that little fantasy since he knew he had work to do. The job before him was no easy task but it was most certainly one that he wanted to do on his own. Elsie had offered to help, even to simply keep him company, but he was slightly afraid that she would be disappointed in his skills and the end result so he had promptly but politely declined her offer.

He looked around him at all the various pieces to this complicated yet incredibly important task and wiped the sweat from his brow. Even with the meticulously outlined directions and diagrams he had secured from one of the carpenters on the estate, he was beginning to doubt his ability. But then he remembered the look on Elsie's face when he'd mentioned the project to her, the way her eyes sparkled and her lips curled into a large smile was his undoing. He soon found himself smiling and with a boost of confidence he picked up the hammer and a nail and started to work.

Elsie jumped and clutched her hand to her chest as the sound of the hammer hitting the nail and driving it into the wood resounded through their little cottage. She had been anticipating the loud banging for a good half hour but the suddenness of it was enough to make her heart skip a few beats. She stopped kneading the bread dough and closed her eyes, wanting to preserve the memory for years to come, however silly it might sound to others, perhaps even to Charles if she were to tell him of her little moment.

Soon, though, the steady rhythm of the hammer and the occasional outburst from Charles if the hammer slipped, filled the silence in every corner of the house, and with her bread set aside to rise before baking, she decided it was time for Charles to take a break. With two glasses of fresh lemonade in hand, she carefully climbed the stairs to the small room and tapped the door with her foot.

"Charles, love, open the door. I have some lemonade for you," she called out sweetly to him. She had to wait a moment or two as she heard sounds of shuffling and scraping before the door opened just slightly. "Well, for heavens sake, open the door! I can't very well give you the glass if you don't open up," she scolded with a smile on her face.

"I don't want you to see. I'm not finished. Won't be for some time," he added, stepping into the hallway and gratefully taking the glass from her. He downed half of the contents of the glass before continuing. "Besides, I've got everything spread out on the floor, in the correct order, and I don't want to run the risk of getting anything out of place."

"I promise not to touch a single piece, not even one little nail, if you'll let me see," she pleaded, though he was already shaking his head.

"Not until I'm done. Elsie, please, we've talked about this. I want it to be a surprise … well, as much as it can be at this point." He leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips then rested his forehead against hers. "I promise to show you the moment it's finished. Just … trust me."

"Charlie Carson, I trust you with my life. You know that. I'm merely excited, that's all. But, if it means that much to you, I promise to leave you alone for the rest of the day." When he started to lean down for another kiss, she stopped him abruptly with her fingers on his lips. "You must promise me that you will open the windows in there and keep the door open for some air to circulate. You're much too warm, and it won't do you or me any good if you get sick from the heat. I promise not to come back up these stairs until you call for me."

He kissed her fingertips then the palm of her hand before resting it over his heart. "You have my solemn oath, Mrs. Carson. Windows and door open, and I'll call for you the moment I'm satisfied with the project."

She caressed his cheek for a moment, staring into his deep brown eyes. "I'm such a lucky lass to be married to you." She brushed her thumb across his bottom lip and trailed her fingertips down the side of his neck causing them both to shiver as shared memories of passionate nights filled their minds. "I think I'll put the bread in to bake and then do a bit of laundry."

"Nothing heavy," he reminded her. "No heavy lifting."

"Oh, go on with you. It's merely a few sheets, pillow cases, and the like. I think I can manage." She gave him a little wink and a pat on the bottom before turning and starting towards the stairs with his empty glass in her hand. She was caught completely by surprise when his arms slipped around her waist drawing her back against his damp shirt.

"Take a rest this afternoon and we can go down to the lake for a little picnic supper. It might be nice to do a bit of paddling at the end of the day to cool off a little and watch the sunset." He brushed his lips against the side of her neck and nipped her earlobe playfully.

"You have yourself a date, Charlie. Just don't get too worked up over this," she said, nodding her head towards the closed door. "It will be perfect because you made it with love, and we will cherish it."

With that extra boost of confidence and a cool breeze now blowing in through the window and opened door, Charles returned to his task with renewed energy and excitement. He worked tirelessly and with intense concentration for the rest of the afternoon until he added the last nail to the wood with satisfaction.

As he stared at the little wooden object, he felt a surge of pride filling his chest. He didn't think he'd ever felt such a deep sense of accomplishment as he did in that moment. Then, suddenly, he had a deep desire to share this moment with Elsie. He had promised to let her see it the moment it was completed. After looking it over carefully with a critical eye, making certain that every detail was perfect, every nail flush with the wood, the edges all smooth so that nothing could cause any harm, he decided it was time to show off his handiwork.

He stood and stretched, the tired and achy muscles in his back and legs protesting, causing him to wince and groan. The cool water of the lake would certainly wash away any discomfort he was feeling now. He was about to call downstairs to Elsie when he heard a lovely voice floating in through the window. Crossing the room, he pulled back the billowing curtain to see his beautiful wife.

He was mesmerized by the image of her. She had dark hair, though when the sun kissed it, it highlighted the auburn streaks, and one or two silver hairs, though he'd never tell her as much. Her skin seemed to glow with the warmth of the sun and the tiny beads of sweat at the nape of her neck, no doubt from the work she'd been doing both inside and outside of the house. The dark blue skirt she wore was a little tight, though that was to be expected. However, it also accentuated her bottom … something he greatly appreciated. And the pale blue shirt with the little yellow flowers on the collars was one of his favorites. On more than one occasion, he could recall telling her how the shirt made her eyes seem an even lighter shade of blue, like a clear pool of water on a summer day. To him, she was absolute perfection, and as he scanned her outline as she carefully draped the freshly laundered sheets across the laundry line, his eyes were drawn to the perfect little baby bump at her tummy.

As he continued to stare, he watched as Elsie gently removed each little piece of bedding for the crib and attached it to the line, running her hand over the crisp white sheet as if the baby could care about wrinkles when he or she arrived. Elsie was singing, too. He was sure it was some lullaby her mother used to lull Elsie and Becky to sleep when they were younger, something she was sure to sing to their own bairn in the middle of the night.

A sudden burst of wind caught a little square of white cloth that she was trying to attach to the line and Elsie barely caught it just before it hit the ground. Her laughter rang through the garden and up to the window where Charles stood watching, his own soft laugh joining hers.

"Good catch, love," he called down from the window.

She looked up and waved at her handsome husband. "The last thing I want is to have to wash all of this again. It was a chore, but it's finished now. We just have to wait for the sun to dry the bedding and for this little one to arrive," she said caressing her baby bump just as the little one decided to give her a swift reminder of their presence.

"I'm finished if you'd like to come up and give me your opinion," he called down. "Leave the basket, and I'll hang the rest of the laundry while you take a rest on the sofa. I don't want you to tire out before we get to the lake."

She carefully folded the little sheet for the crib and placed it back into the laundry basket then made her way inside. She had been waiting on this moment all day, trying to keep her mind occupied and her hands busy so she didn't disturb Charles as he worked so very hard. Within minutes, she was standing at the threshold of the little room they had designated for a nursery.

"Close your eyes," he said, taking both of her hands in his and leading her into the middle of the room. When he released her hands, he moved to stand behind her, his chin resting on her shoulder and his hands now resting securely on her stomach where their little miracle was nestled safely for at least another few weeks. "Open them," he whispered softly.

Slowly, Elsie opened her eyes and gasped at the sight in front of her. Her darling, wonderful, talented husband had actually managed to make the baby cradle. It was exactly like the one she had seen in the magazine she'd been reading and had showed it to Charles. She had immediately dismissed the idea of buying the cradle because of the price, but it was clear to her husband that she had already fallen in love. He had to admit, too, that he could easily imagine their little baby sleeping soundly in the cradle beside their bed each night.

It was when that image settled firmly in his mind that Charles decided to try his hand at woodworking. It wouldn't be an easy task by any stretch of the imagination but he had to try … for Elsie, for their baby, and for himself. If he could manage, it would be something that their grandchildren might use one day. One afternoon while Elsie had been in the village, Charles took the magazine to the carpenters on the estate and explained his situation. They assured him that, with their help and explicit directions, it would be possible. Now, standing in the nursery with Elsie, he had never felt prouder.

"Charlie, it's perfect. It's exactly like the one I saw in the magazine. I can't believe you did all of this, you lovely, amazing man," she said, turning in his arms and kissing him soundly on the lips. She turned back and gently bent down beside the cradle, amazed at the deep coloring of the wood, the smoothness of the edges, and the ease of the glide when she gently pushed it.

Tears filled her eyes as she peered into the cradle. The bottom and sides of their baby's new bed were lined with a thick white padding to protect the little one from any discomfort or harm. Little white bows evenly spaced around the crib and keeping the material securely in place only enhanced the overall beauty of the gift.

"I hope you like the insides. If not, we can certainly change them. Mrs. Logan, at the shop, suggested the white fabric since it is softer than some of the others I looked at, and she suggested it would be perfect for a boy or a girl. She also put me in touch with a lady in Ripon who managed to sew the lining since I told her it was to be a surprise for you. But, if there's anything you'd like to change …"

"No! It's perfect, absolutely perfect. I'll stop by and thank Mrs. Logan myself the next time I'm in the village, and I'll send a thank you note to the lady in Ripon, too." Elsie wiped at the tears of happiness now freely streaming down her cheeks. She wrapped her arm around Charles's waist and snuggled into his side as he rested one hand on her hip and the other on her baby bump.

"I'm sorry if I was grumpy with you earlier today. I wanted all of this to be a surprise. You seemed so sure that I was going to do a very simple design, and I would have been forced to do just that had this been an utter failure. But, Elsie, I've never been happier than I am right now. Seeing the look on your face was worth every hammered thumb, ever nail-pricked finger, and all the sweat and heat in the world. I will be one proud Papa when our little baby arrives and can sleep in here for the first time."

Charles closed the distance between them and kissed Elsie softly on the lips, letting the seconds tick by slowly and enjoying the happy moment between them. They both began to laugh when the baby decided to kick Charles's hand, letting them both know that soon they would be a family of three and there would be someone to occupy the tiny cradle that Charles has crafted for baby Carson.

Later that evening, after they had enjoyed the picnic by the lake and watching the sunset, the couple returned home. It was dark but the moon was full and bright, casting odd shadows on the laundry still flapping in the light breeze. Charles ushered Elsie inside before returning to gather the linens from the line. Pulling one of the cradle sheets to his nose, he inhaled deeply while remembering the image of Elsie as he'd watched her from the upstairs window earlier that day. The sheet smelled of lavender and sunshine, love and happiness, security and home … all the things that reminded him of Elsie. In only a few short weeks, he would be able to wrap up his son or daughter in the sun-kissed blankets and tell them of his love for their mother and how she stole his heart away.

 **A/N:** Thanks so much for reading. This is, of course, an AU for our sweet Chelsie, but the idea of baby linens was too cute to resist. If you're so inclined, I'd appreciate you taking the time to leave a little review. HUGS!


	9. Remontant

" _ **The flowers of Yorkshire are like the women of Yorkshire. Every stage of their growth has its own beauty, but the last phase is always the most glorious."**_

Chris quoting John in Calendar Girls

 **Bud:**

She had been one of the lucky ones. Not all farm girls in Argyll were given the opportunity to go to school and learn alongside the other children, mostly sons, of the nearby farmers. But, her father and mother had insisted that Elsie attend the local schoolhouse and do her best to learn as much as she could, even at such a young age. As with any task Elsie had undertaken, she took her schoolwork very seriously, excelling in her reading and mathematics, until she was considered by the school master to be the best in the classroom.

At first, Elsie had been incredibly nervous about going to school, though the idea of learning and trying new things excited her. It would mean being away from her parents and sister for most of the day, away from the animals she loved and her chores which she would not entirely miss, but her father had insisted that it would be worth it in the end and that she was being given an opportunity that few others had. Farm work was challenging, though in a physical sense, but he thought it critical to teach Elsie about mental challenges, too. By attending school, she was offered the chance to explore the world around her, to expand her horizons, to learn of faraway places, and even to dream of a life different from that of her mother and father.

As Elsie progressed through her school years, she grew in confidence in her classwork and, she also began to form her own opinions about the world and how it worked. She was an astute student of history and often enjoyed challenging the views long believed to be correct simply because that was the way things had always been done. Her father had been careful never to label his firstborn as a radical, though he always engaged her in spirited conversations over supper. And, at the end of each discussion, he would always offer a gentle reminder that being outspoken in the world was not always accepted by others, but encouraged her to always hold true to her beliefs, her core values, the spirit that he had seen in her eyes each time they debated. However, her father wasn't the only one to challenge, Elsie.

Brodie Donaghue was a strapping lad from a neighboring farm. She had first seen him in the village at a harvest festival when she had attended with her parents and her sister, though Elsie was much more interested in entertaining Becky than socializing with her peers. Even at a young age, she recognized that something wasn't quite right with Becky, and she tried, in her own ways, to help her parents in small ways, even if that meant giving up some of her free time to ensure that they had time for themselves and each other.

With the new school year well underway, Brodie had noticed Elsie and viewed her as a very pretty but overly quiet lass who seemed to always have her head in a book or was trying to help the younger children with some of their work. She wasn't like the other girls her age or even the older ones, of that he was certain. Perhaps that was what intrigued him so about her. He found her much more fascinating than the teenagers his own age, though Elsie was not far behind them. At thirteen, she still seemed to be much older and wiser than the older lasses in Brodie's acquaintance.

That, along with her dark hair, blue eyes, and fair complexion, her mother reckoned, was the reason that Brodie began to show more of a keen interest in Elsie May Hughes. It was confirmed one afternoon as Elsie burst through the door of their home, eager to share a note with her mother. Brodie had somehow managed to slip it into the little sack Elsie used for her lunch, and she had found it when she had reached in to retrieve an apple to eat on the way home. It wasn't anything spectacular, to be sure, but to Elsie it was remarkable that someone as popular, handsome and intelligent as Brodie might find her in the least bit interesting. Her mother had advised caution, not willing to see her daughter heartbroken at such an early age, and Elsie wisely heeded her mother's sage advice.

The months following the delivery of that first note were some of the happiest Elsie had ever known. Frequent notes were slipped into her lunch satchel. Brodie often asked if he might sit with Elsie while they ate. He would bring an extra dessert to share with her or her with him. Even their discussions were lively and exciting. He seemed interested in what she had to say and offered opposing viewpoints from time to time, leading to a highly charged discussion much like the ones she enjoyed with her father.

Slowly but surely, Elsie was beginning to fall for this young man in her life. He had always kept a respectable distance between them, never wanting to put a stain on her reputation or his. And, like most girls do at such a young age, Elsie began to daydream about what it would be like to have a little cottage somewhere with him, build a home and a family together like her parents and his, to share a lifetime of happiness and lively discussions. But, that was not to be.

Much too soon and with little in the way of an explanation, the lunches stop being shared, words were hardly spoken except in passing, and the happy little notes stopped appearing. But it wasn't until the summer fair came into town that Elsie's heart finally realized the truth, though her mind had begun to make peace with the situation. On the last day of school, Brodie had brought a delicate yellow rose with him to the classroom. Elsie's heart leapt at the idea that perhaps it was for her, a way to say that he was sorry and to make amends for the distance between them. Unfortunately, the rose was meant for someone else and came with an invitation to the fair. She had overheard their quiet little conversation, her interest being piqued when she heard her name mentioned.

"Elsie means nothing to me, Marjorie. She's pretty but she's still too young. I like her but not the way I like you. She's more like a little sister to me. Please, say you'll come with me to the fair. I'll buy you some cider and maybe try to win you something at one of the stalls."

She had heard enough and walked slowly back home, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. Her mother gathered her into her loving arms and held her daughter tightly as she tried to mend her daughter's broken heart. Later that night as she tossed and turned in her bed, her mind replaying Brodie's comments over and over causing more tears to fall, she was surprised to see her bedroom door opening slightly and her father's head peeking in.

"Your mam told me what happened, lass," he said quietly, tenderly. "I wish we could have spared you the pain, but it was bound to happen sooner or later." He sat on the edge of her bed and immediately found his arms full of the little girl who looked so much like her mother. "You'll find the right man, someday, Elsie, my girl. Brodie is young and so are you. You have your whole life ahead of you with adventures that will take you far behind this farm and this part of Scotland. Sleep in tomorrow. I'll take care of your chores for you. Your mam will pack you and Becky a little picnic lunch and you can go down by the loch for the day." He kissed the top of Elsie's head and gave her a little squeeze. "Just remember that no matter what happens to you in life or who you fall in love with, never close your heart to others. The right lad is out there waiting for you, going through a similar heartbreak with a lass of his own, but when he finds you and you find him, you'll forget all about this little pain. Trust me."

"I love you, Da. I hope I grow up and marry a man just like you. I'd be so very lucky."

He wiped his eyes and kissed his child once more. "And any man that is lucky enough to win the heart of Elsie May Hughes will be blessed beyond measure. Now, get some sleep and dream of that young man that's waiting out there for you."

 **Bloom:**

If a knock on a simple wooden door could be considered nervous, Elsie was certain it would be the only way to describe the sound she heard as Joe Burns rapped on the front door of their cottage. She could hear his soft tones all the way down the hall and into her bedroom as he spoke to her Da, hear the slight shaking of his words as he spoke. She smiled to herself in the mirror as she listened to the conversation before nerves began to grip her heart and her mind began to wander back through the last few years.

Her father was a fair man, well-respected in the community, and known to be a little overly cautious with his eldest daughter. Several of the lads from nearby farms had expressed an interest in courting Elsie, but she had made it clear that she had her sights set on other things and had little time for the frivolities of walking out with someone when there was so much work to be done. And then Joe Burns came along.

His family had moved to the neighboring farm the year Elsie had turned eighteen. She had, of course, heard about Farmer Burns, his wife and their son, Joe, but she had always been too busy to accompany her parents when they visited the Burns house. Her mother had made sure to tell her everything she knew about the farmer's son, despite her father's lack of enthusiasm, and Elsie had brushed aside her Mam's encouragement with a gentle reminder that she had little time for socializing.

She had been walking home from her work in the village, helping to clean the church and ministers home, where she earned experience and extra money. She couldn't wait to tell her parents about the offer she had received. Seems the minister and his wife had recommended Elsie for a position at one of the local manor houses, complimenting her on her work ethic, dedication, and eagerness to complete any given task. She had been so distracted that she failed to notice the darkening clouds gathering in the near distance. Suddenly, the heavens opened up and Elsie found herself drenched to the bone and shivering as she ran towards home.

Joe Burns had been returning from an errand in the village for his father when the rains had started. It was such a heavy downpour that he nearly didn't see Elsie until it was too late. Pulling hard on the reins of the horse, he managed to get the cart stopped in time, apologies tumbling from his mouth faster than the rains fell from the skies. He had offered her a ride to his home where she could seek shelter until the worst of the storm had passed, then he and his mother would accompany Elsie the rest of the way to her home. She had thanked him and accepted the kindness, enjoying an afternoon as the guest of the Burns family.

Almost a year later, Elsie and Joe would laugh about that first meeting and how he almost literally knocked her off her feet at first sight. Both sets of parents had been thrilled when Joe Burns had politely asked Mr. Hughes for permission to court his daughter, though permission was not easily granted. Elsie's father clearly remembered the first heartbreak Elsie had suffered and felt it his fatherly duty to protect her heart at all costs while giving her the freedom to choose. When Elsie assured her Da that she was interested in a courtship with Joe, permission was finally granted and the two became almost inseparable.

Joe was a hard worker, much like her father. He had a good head on his shoulders, a sound business sense, and a love of the land, the crops, and the animals. It was a difficult life, but neither of them were strangers to the routines of farm life, the early mornings, the long evenings, and all the chores in between. While Elsie worked in the village, Joe toiled away on the farm, knowing that one day it would be his to manage, his inheritance. But, despite his dedication to the land, he never neglected Elsie.

Village fairs, Saturday picnics by the loch, invitations to dinner at his house or hers, even small trips into the village for mundane errands were times well spent together. Theirs was an easy companionship, one where Elsie felt free to speak her mind while Joe listened and then she would return the favor. She talked of her future, of the opportunities waiting out there in the world while his concerns rested closer to home … the farm, the harvest, the livestock, mending the fence, replacing parts of the rock wall.

The more time Joe and Elsie spent together, the deeper her affections for him began to grow. Everyone in the village saw them as a couple, whispering and wondering when their engagement would be announced. And while Joe's parents were incredibly keen on the match, seeing Elsie as an asset, both in terms of her personality and what her dowry might include, the Hugheses were less inclined to rush their daughter into any sort of arrangement. They had taught their oldest girl to make her own decisions and then allowed her the freedom to do so whenever possible and supported her wholeheartedly.

As Elsie listened to the conversation between Joe and her father, she was snapped from her memories. Surely she wasn't hearing this correctly, though only time would tell. Briefly, she thought about calling off their outing, feigning some headache or stomach malady, but she realized that would only prolong the inevitable. She had news to share and, if she had overheard correctly, he had a question to ask. Maybe, just maybe, she could share her news first and it would surprise him enough that his question would be left unvoiced.

As she kissed her Mam on the cheek and hugged her Da goodbye, she looped her arm through Joe's and they set off with a picnic basket. The easy banter they often shared and the lighthearted moments seemed to have dissipated and been replaced with an atmosphere reminiscent of their first meeting … dark clouds, rainstorm, and all.

Once the picnic basket had been unpacked, Elsie made herself comfortable on one side of the blanket, making sure to keep all of the food and the wicker basket between them. She watched Joe cautiously as he unwrapped his sandwich and took a hearty bite, then pulling on the tie around his neck. She took a deep breath and decided that it was now or never.

"Joe, I've something to tell you," she said, placing her unwrapped sandwich at her side and folding her hands in her lap. "You are not going to like it, but I've been offered a position as head housemaid."

He looked up at her, surprise written all over his face. "Elsie, that's wonderful news. I know how much you enjoy the work and to be head housemaid is something special. But, where on earth around here is there any need for a head housemaid? Sounds like some rich landowner and there's nobody around here like that. We're all simple farmers, for the most part."

"It's a placed called Downton Abbey," she replied, holding her head high as if she already truly understood the importance of the house and the family that lived there.

"Downtown Abbey? Never heard of it. What part of Scotland is that?"

"First of all, it's DownTON not DownTOWN and it's not in Scotland. It's in Yorkshire, England. I would be moving away, soon in fact," she added hastily. "I was going to tell you that Mrs. Sterling had recommended me to someone her sister knows, but I didn't think anything would come of it. I mean, who would want to hire a farmer's daughter from Argyll when there are plenty of girls in England just as qualified to do the job at hand?"

Joe stared at her with disbelief, not truly comprehending her words. "England? But, you can't leave, Elsie. We've been courting, and I thought we had an understanding. I thought you and I … we are … just … don't go. Stay here. Marry me," he said hastily.

Elsie gasped and felt her heart beginning to beat faster. "You don't mean that, Joe. You're just saying that so I don't leave you."

"No, I'm not. Look Elsie, I even have a little ring," he said rummaging in his pocket and producing the simple gold band and offering it to her. "Take it. Say you'll stay here with me, help me manage the farm. We could work it together, raise a family. We could be happy. I know it. I have already spoken to your father about my intentions today."

"And what did he say?" she asked, knowing full well that her father would defer to her wishes and never force her into a marriage.

"He said to ask you, and you would give me the answer. He wouldn't say one way or another what his opinions were on the matter. I didn't have time to ask your Mam what she thought about it. Both of my parents think it's a wonderful idea and are already talking about ceremonies and grandchildren."

In that moment, Elsie felt like she truly had control of her life. It was her decision to marry Joe and have a family or to walk away from everything comfortable and forge her own path in life, to see what was beyond the hills and valleys of the countryside. She loved Joe, though she couldn't honestly say she was in love with him. He was friendly, companionable, responsible, a good listener, but when she tried to picture her life with him in five, ten, twenty years down the road, all she could see was the same thing she had seen all of her life. It would be more of the same, day in and day out. And when she weighed that outcome with the idea of going to Yorkshire and seeing what was waiting for her there, new faces, new places, making her own way in the world, her choice was simple.

"I love you, Joe, truly I do, and I enjoy spending time together. But, I cannot accept your proposal. I need to take this job at Downton Abbey. I need to see what I can accomplish on my own, not merely go from working on my family's farm to yours, continuing cleaning the church and a few houses. I want to see a bit of the world, Joe. Please, understand that I am doing this as much for you as I am myself."

He tossed his sandwich onto the blanket and stood, raking his hands through his hair and beginning to pace. "And how do you come by that, Elsie Hughes? I'm offering you my heart, my farm, and the rest of my life. How could your moving away possibly be for me?"

Elsie calmly began to pack away all the picnic items, sensing that their outing was over before it truly began. "It's simple, really. I would always wonder what might have been, what could have been had I just taken the chance, gone another way. I would be a good wife, a loving one, in fact, but a part of my heart would never be yours. It would always, always belong to some great adventure that I never took the time to enjoy. You'd be miserable in the end and so would I. I wish you could see that I'm not doing this to hurt you."

"Certainly feels that way," he said, placing the ring back in his pocket. Their walk home in silence was thick with tension. Everything that needed saying had been done so by the little lake where they often enjoyed laughter and good times. It was weeks before Elsie was set to leave for Yorkshire and in spite of her best attempts to see Joe one last time, to leave on good terms, he was always too busy or not at home when she visited.

The morning of her departure, her Mam, Da and Becky all accompanied her to the station to say their goodbyes. Tears flowed freely that morning, but with each hug and kiss exchanged there were a thousand promises of letters being sent and received, maybe a return home if it was permitted. The train whistle blew, and Elsie was about to step into the carriage to take her place when she noticed Joe rushing towards her.

"I thought I'd missed you. I was so worried. Had some trouble with a horse this morning and lost track of time," he blurted out as he grew closer to her. "I know you have to leave, but I didn't want to let you go without seeing you. I love you, Elsie, and I always will. If you get to Yorkshire and hate it, you can always come home, come back to me." The train whistle blew once more, signaling the departure was at hand. "Here, I brought you these. I know how you loved the roses at the side of the house. Take them and remember me, our time together, the farm. Maybe by the time you reach England, you'll be ready to come back," he said with a soft smile.

Elsie accepted the freshly cut pink roses, bringing them to her nose to inhale their familiar scent. The buds were just beginning to open up which meant she would be able to enjoy them for a few days at least, a little bit of home to get her through the hard part of those first days. "I will remember you, Joe Burns. Make no mistake about that. But now, it's time for me to go. I need to see what lies ahead for Elsie Hughes, but you can always write. I hope you will."

He nodded and with one last hug and kiss to her parents and sister, Elsie stepped into the carriage and waved goodbye, knowing that deep down inside she would never be the same little farm girl again.

 **Blossom:**

The room was cool and dark, and the sheets were softer than anything she'd ever slept on before this very night. She was incredibly tired, but every nerve in her body was alive and tingling. She felt as if her entire body was relaxed for the first time in her life, and it was a feeling she wanted to relish for as long as it would last. But her mind, despite her tiredness, would not let her rest. It kept replaying the entire day in her head, lingering on the evening hours especially, which caused her to smile and blush, just a little, if she was truly honest. As quietly as she could, Elsie slipped from bed and wrapped her new dressing gown around her naked body and walked over to the opened window, perching herself on the window sill and looking out towards the sea.

Waves crashing against the shore offered a lovely, soothing sound, one which she was sure on any other night would lull her happily to sleep. Not this night, though. Too many emotions and thoughts, memories and dreams were competing for her attention until she had finally slipped from bed and indulged them.

She could remember seeing him for the first time as clearly as a church bell chiming Sunday services. He wasn't the first person she had encountered when she arrived at Downton Abbey but he was certainly the one she remembered the best. Something gentle yet imposing, stern but compassionate called out to her that day, despite the blustering and bellowing his booming voice might have led anyone else to believe. She knew, in that one moment, that he was a kind soul, no nonsense, down to earth, but able to appreciate the finer things in life.

His large frame and that head full of dark hair, the little waves and curls forced into submission, were impressive. A large, almost regal nose, and impressive eyebrows dominated his face, but it was his eyes that had truly drawn her in like no other before. Brown eyes, the color of milk chocolate, caught hers and she soon snapped from her survey of the butler, and he commanded her full attention. He praised her for impressive recommendation which had preceded her, offered her his best wishes, reminded her that hard work was the key to success, and then vanished up the stairs to attend to the family, leaving her a little overwhelmed but in the good hands of the housekeeper.

It certainly wasn't love at first sight, but Elsie knew that he was someone who commanded respect and not simply because of his position in this prominent household, but because he had earned it. Everyone she had spoken to before her arrival had commented on Charles Carson, in nothing but favorable terms, no less, so she was pleased to see for herself that she had not been misled.

Over the course of the next few decades, Charles and Elsie had grown closer. Elsie had been promoted to Housekeeper of Downton Abbey and with that she had gained a new status in the household. In the eyes of many, she was the counterpart to Mr. Carson, his equal in many ways. Late nights discussing household matters over a glass of wine or sherry had soon given way to sharing little stories from childhood, amusing happenings from a maid or footman, even the odd bit of town gossip that happened to reach their ears. He was, in short, her best friend, and she liked to think he considered her his best friend, too.

When Joe Burns had resurfaced in her life, most unexpectedly, Charles was the only person in whom she could confide. She did not miss the anxious tone in Charles's words or the tension in his shoulders, though she assumed his concern was more out of a responsibility to the household and family than anything concerning her personal life. The relief on his face when she had informed him she would not be leaving Downton to marry her former suitor was a look she wouldn't soon forget. It was as if she could see the strain of the situation leaving his body, a feeling with which she was very familiar. She had loved Joe, but seeing him again only confirmed her suspicions from her youth. Despite the occasional moment of doubt and longing for a husband and family of her own, she knew she had made the right choice … for both of them.

Over the next few years, times changed drastically at Downton Abbey. New servants came and left, the Crawley girls grew up and began forging their own way in social circles, a world war had touched everyone in some way or another, technology was advancing, and then there was her scare.

Cancer. The mere thought of that word had caused the blood in her veins to run ice cold. She had been assured by Lady Cora that she would be taken care of, allowed to stay, but no one fully understood the whole story. There was another life, a sweet soul, who depended on Elsie's work and money to keep her in a good home with caring medical staff. Mrs. Patmore had urged Elsie to confide in Mr. Carson about her potential life-ending illness, but she had adamantly declined.

"I don't want to be a sick woman in his eyes, or a dying one in the months to come." The words had no sooner left her mouth and Elsie began to realize the special place this man, this stoic figure in her life, held. Out of all of her friends and acquaintances, he would have been the hardest to tell had the diagnosis come back as cancer. Fortunately, she had been spared the heartache of that conversation. Instead, she had been blessed, albeit in a small way but blessed none the less. She had heard Charles Carson singing for her, expressing his sheer joy at her news, rejoicing in the fact that his friend was healthy and the dark cloud surrounding her had lifted.

There had been other incidents along the way, other times where they had allowed themselves to grow just a little closer, tentative steps towards something more meaningful than mere friendship. A former friend from Charles's past, a paddle in the sea, an investment idea, a house on Brouncker Road … a proposal of marriage.

Marriage. The simple word brought a smile to her lips and warmed her to her very soul. She had long given up on that dream until one day she found that she was living the dream. Her butler, her best friend, her Charlie had promised before God, her, and their friends to love, to honor, and to cherish her for the rest of his life. He had endowed her with all of his worldly goods, and he had certainly made good on his promise to worship her with his body. The mere thought of their activities caused her cheeks to warm and a broad smile to caress her face.

She was so caught up in her own musings that she did not see her husband wake or hear his snores cease, did not see him watching her from the bed, or realize that moment he slipped up behind her. He wrapped his arms securely around her waist and stared out at the sea and stars, his chin resting on her shoulder. "I hope nothing is the matter," he said softly, gently, a little concern mixed in there as well.

Elsie covered his arms with hers and leaned back into his solid warmth. "I couldn't sleep, that's all. My mind was too full, and I simply couldn't manage to fall asleep."

"I'm sorry if my snoring kept you awake, though, I suppose that's something you'll have to get used to," he answered with a nervous laugh.

She turned in his arms and hugged him tightly to her. "No, not at all. I'm simply too happy to sleep. Today has been a wonderful dream, and I'm simply not ready to let it go just yet." She pressed her cheek to his chest, taking pleasure in the knowledge that she could do this almost any time she wanted, from this day forward.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and drew her deeper into his embrace. "You looked beautiful today, more wonderful than I've ever seen you. You seemed to almost be glowing."

She tilted her head back and looked into his eyes. Even in the darkness of the room, she could see the love, devotion, and sincerity behind each and every word. "To be honest, I feel like a new woman, today. I woke up this morning with a swarm of butterflies in my stomach and now that the ceremony is over and we're properly married, I feel lighter, happier, and more alive than ever before." To prove her point, she stood on her tiptoes and closed the remaining distance between them, kissing him with all the love she felt pouring from her heart.

When the kiss ended, Charles turned Elsie around so that she was once more facing the sea, his warm arms still wrapped around her. For several long moments they stared out into the darkness, listening to the sounds and breathing deeply the salty air.

"Do you think they're looking down on us tonight, Charlie?"

"Who?" he asked, his voice soft and comforting.

"Our parents? I've thought a lot about them in the last few days, well mine at least." She closed her eyes and could picture both of her parents, happy and smiling, hugging each other, much like Charlie was hugging her to him now. "I'm sure they would have loved you very much."

"I'm sure they know that their little girl is happy today, as I'm sure my parents know I've chosen a beautiful bride, one that makes me a better man in so many ways."

"I woke up this morning and remembered something my Da told me when my first crush broke my heart. He said that out there somewhere, there was a lad going through a similar heartache and that when we finally met, he would make me forget all about the others who have gone before, that it would all be worth it in the end. And you know something, Charlie, Da was right. I just needed to be patient and wait for you to be ready, and for me to be ready, too."

"You got there before me, though," he chuckled. "You were the one encouraging me, patiently showing me the way. I just had to be bold enough to take that next step."

"We both had to be ready. We started out as a little rosebud, closed up and tight lipped. Then, over the years, we opened up more and more, sharing more of ourselves, until finally … today, we blossomed into a happily married couple."

Charles wiped a stray tear from his wife's cheek then leaned down and kissed her sweetly on the lips. "Is that why I heard you asking Anna and Miss Baxter about preserving a rose from your bouquet and my boutineer?"

"Oh, you heard that, did you? Well, I hadn't thought of us in terms of the rose until just now but I did want to preserve a little bit of our day. My Mam did that with part of the flowers from her wedding. I still have them pressed in the pages of her Bible."

"It's a beautiful sentiment, and I hope you'll show the pressed flowers to me when we get back to Downton." He reached down and took her hand in his, tugging gently until she followed him back to bed. "For now, though, I think it's time my wife got some sleep."

Elsie slipped off her robe and surprised Charles when she slipped beneath the sheets without her nightgown, patting the space beside her in the bed, inviting him to join her. She had waited her entire life for Charles Edward Carson, and to her, it was worth the wait. Elsie May Hughes Carson was finally complete. She had lived her life on her own terms, made her own decisions, created a life she could be proud of, and married for love, true love. She was finally a rose in full bloom.

 **A/N:** First and foremost, thank you for reading the story. I took a few liberties with the prompt word, focusing on the "bloom, blossom" aspect of it and twisting it a little. I interpreted "bloom" to be a maturing in some way, and "season" to be a lifetime. I hope you don't mind. Secondly, in the "bloom," section, I have Joe Burns living in Argyll. I realize the prevailing thought is that he is a Yorkshire man, but for my purposes, he needed to be Scottish. Again, I hope you'll think of it as a sort of AU and not criticize me too harshly. Thirdly, the quote at the very beginning is from Calendar Girls, and I think it sums up our Elsie very well. She may have been born in Scotland, but she has lived most of her life in Yorkshire and has bloomed and blossomed there like a hearty flower. Lastly, I would love to hear your thoughts on my interpretation of the prompt. Hugs and kisses!


	10. Fair

**Fair:**

A timid knock sounded on the housekeeper's closed door. There were no doubts as to the identity of her visitor, and she immediately put down her pen and turned in her chair to greet her guest. "Come in," she called out softly.

The handle turned and the door opened slowly. "Mrs. Hughes, are you busy?" Miss Sybbie asked with a quiet voice and a bright smile.

"I'm never too busy for you, Miss Sybbie," she said as she opened her arms and soon found them filled with the little girl who often visited her office. "What brings you down here today? And more importantly, does Nanny know where you are?" The little girl climbed into Elsie's lap and rested in the woman's arms.

Sybbie nodded. "I told her I needed to see you about something very important. She wanted me to tell her my secret but I told her that it was just for you and me. She said she would talk to you later but I told her that you wouldn't tell my secrets." Sybbie looked directly into Elsie's eyes and smiled. "And you won't tell, will you, Mrs. Hughes? They're our secrets, and you love me."

"You are correct, Miss Sybbie. I do love you very much, and secrets are secrets. Sometimes, though, if it's for a good cause, it might be necessary to share the information if it will help someone else. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I don't understand. Why would it be okay to tell something you promised not to share?"

"Ah, that's a tricky question, and one we might save for another day. I'm sure you didn't come all this way to talk about something like that, though." She gave the little girl a tight hug and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Did you come down for biscuits and milk or maybe a story from me this afternoon?"

Sybbie shook her head and snuggled into Elsie's arms as she'd done countless times before. "No, I wanted to ask if you would take me to the fair. I heard Nanny and some of the maids talking about it, and they made it sound like so much fun. I know you'll be going and since Papa is away, I thought you could take me instead. Donk and Grandmama probably won't go but I am sure they'd let you take me since everyone in the house trusts you."

Elsie smiled at the child's confidence in her, but her heart sank just a little. "Oh, dear. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I won't be going to the fair, either, this year. I haven't been to one in several years, and even then my trip was cut short."

Sybbie's face fell and a sadness clouded her eyes. Her one chance at being able to visit the fair had just crumbled, but she was sadder for her friend, Mrs. Hughes. "Why can't you go? It sounds like so much fun with games and cakes and other stuff that I can't remember. I would be on my very best behavior if you took me."

"I'm sure you would, lass, and that has absolutely nothing to do with it. If I were planning to go, we might see about taking you for an hour or two. Unfortunately, I won't be going. I haven't been invited, you see, and it wouldn't be proper for me to take you alone."

"Couldn't you go with Mrs. Patmore? She's your friend, and I like her. She bakes very nice biscuits and always gives me some when I'm down here."

Elsie grinned. "Mrs. Patmore has been invited to go with someone else. Mr. Mason wants to take her to the fair. I'm sure she'll enjoy it very much, and it wouldn't be very nice of us to invite ourselves on their outing. It would be like Master George inviting himself to one of your tea parties down here with me."

Sybbie crinkled her nose. "I wouldn't like that at all. Those are for us, and Mr. Carson sometimes. I like it when he joins us for tea, but I'm not sure he has as much fun as we do."

"He enjoys them very much, lass. I promise you that. He's just not invited to do things very often because of his position here at the house. A lot of people think he's too good to do things with them or they're a little scared of him because he's the butler."

"You're not scared of him. I'm not scared of him, either. I like him very much, and he does the best voices when he reads me books. And you married him, so you can't be scared of him," she giggled.

She couldn't help giggling herself. "No, I'm not scared of him, and neither should anyone else be for that matter. It's just a little hard to explain, but I assure you, he enjoys those tea parties with you very much. In fact, we should have one again and maybe you could make it a special point to ask him to attend instead of dragging him into my office next time," she said tapping the little girl on the end of her nose.

Sybbie's eyes brightened, and she suddenly hopped down from Elsie's lap. "I'm going to see Mrs. Patmore about biscuits now. I'm sorry we can't go to the fair since we weren't asked. Maybe we could have a little party here instead," she said with a cheery smile. And with that, Miss Sybbie went in search of the cook and her container of biscuits, leaving Elsie Hughes with a wistful smile on her face and a little pang in her heart at the missed opportunity.

As the week went on, the staff became more and more preoccupied with their work, earning several of them a reproach from Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes, or both in some instances. Everyone was talking about the fair, when they were going, the things they wanted to see or do, and whether or not they would receive their wages before the big evening. However, Mr. Carson still had not uttered a single word about the fair to his beloved wife, leading her to believe that he had sworn off the activity as a frivolous adventure.

It was over a cup of tea and a slice of cake one afternoon that Mrs. Patmore decided to prod her friend a little, hoping to convince her to at least ask Mr. Carson about taking her.

"No, I don't think so, Mrs. Patmore. You know his thoughts on the subject, and I won't press him."

"But surely things have changed since you've married! He can't still be holding on to the belief that he's not wanted or would put a damper on things. It's silly for you to miss out on the fun simply because Mr. Carson won't give in," Beryl Patmore huffed in a quiet voice. The last thing either woman wanted was for Charles to overhear the conversation.

"You don't understand, nor do I expect you to. Besides, I can use a night off from the house. We can spend the evening together. I don't need to go to the fair to enjoy the company of my husband. Anyway, you should be too busy with Mr. Mason to even notice if I'm there or not, and the staff certainly won't care one way or another."

"But the fair doesn't come into town often, and you've seen the flyers. There's a troupe coming with them that performs magic tricks and all sorts of side shows. They've never been to Downton before, and everyone will be there."

"Everyone but the Carsons, Mrs. Patmore," she said with conviction. "Now, please, let's consider the subject closed."

"You'll not even ask him, will you?" Mrs. Patmore dared to make one last attempt to convince Elsie to at least broach the subject with her husband.

"No. No doubt, he's seen the posters and heard the talk about the fair. He hasn't mentioned going and neither will I. A night at home will be nice. We can eat at a decent hour, catch up on some reading, and spend some quiet time together before we're both too exhausted to carry on a conversation. It won't be fair games, cider, and pageantry, but it will suit us nicely, and you can tell me all about what I missed over tea."

The opening day of the fair was always considered the grandest of them all. No expenses were spared in the hopes of wooing the entire village and surrounding areas to come out and enjoy the fun. The staff had been given a stern lecture from Mr. Carson about being respectful and setting a proper example while representing the Crawley family, reminded them of their curfew, and then sent them on their merrymaking way. Mrs. Patmore had fretted for over an hour on her attire and was about to change her blouse for the third time when Mr. Mason appeared at the back door to escort her into town.

"Well, that's the lot of them," he sighed happily as Beryl closed the door behind her.

"Yes, I suppose it is. I've a few things to finish up here before I can leave for the cottage but it shouldn't take me too long." Elsie's voice was softer and held a tinge of melancholy which did not go unnoticed by her husband.

"Very well. I have one very important thing to do before I can leave but it shouldn't take me more than ten or fifteen minutes. Do you think you'd be ready to leave by then?"

She gave him a quizzical look but nodded. "I suppose so. What exactly do you have to do that would take such a short amount of time but is so important?"

"I left something upstairs, if you must know, and I need to get it and bring it back here before we leave. Nothing to concern yourself with. I'll be back in a few minutes," he said, quickly pressing a kiss to her cheek, leaving Elsie flustered and a little confused.

While Elsie finished up the order list she'd been working on for most of the day, Charles quickly made his way upstairs. He had spoken with His Lordship days ago and secured the permission he needed.

"Hello, Nanny. Would Miss Sybbie be available this evening?" he asked loudly enough so that the child could hear him in the adjoining room.

"Yes, Mr. Carson. I believe she was playing with her dolls when I last saw her," she answered, giving the smiling butler a wink and a nod of her head. She turned to get the child's hat and coat while he spoke with Sybbie.

"Mr. Carson? Did you want to see me?" she asked, coming into the room and carrying her favorite doll.

"I did, indeed. You see, I need to ask you a very important question, and I hope you'll say yes, though if not, that's fine, too."

Sybbie's eyes grew wide. "You need to ask me an important question? I hope I have the right answer for you," she said as seriously as possible.

Charles knelt down in front of the child and took both her hands in his. "Miss Sybbie, would you do me the great honor of accompany me to the fair this evening?"

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "Yes, Mr. Carson, but we can't go without Mrs. Hughes. She wanted to go as much as me, but nobody had asked her either."

He helped her into her coat and took her hand. "You didn't think I'd leave my best girl behind, did you? I'm taking you and Mrs. Hughes to the fair, and we're going to play games, and eat sticky candy, and maybe even ride the carousel. What do you think of that?"

She jumped up and down and pulled his hand, hurrying him down the myriad of stairs leading to Mrs. Hughes's office. "I think Mrs. Hughes and I are lucky that you like us both so much."

At the bottom of the stairs, Charles leaned down and whispered something into Sybbie's ear then sent her towards Elsie's sitting room.

"Mrs. Hughes," the little girl called out to her friend. "I've been asked to go to the fair!" she said as she bounded into the room and didn't stop until she was right beside Elsie's chair. "I'm going to the fair after all!"

"You are? That's wonderful, Miss Sybbie, but why are you down here? Shouldn't you be on your way? Who's taking you to the village?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Our favorite person asked me to go with him but we agreed that we couldn't go without you. So, get your hat and coat on quickly. We're wasting time, and he promised me a ride on the carousel and some sweets."

Elsie looked up to see Charles who was barely able to contain his laughter. Seeing the excitement on Sybbie's face was nothing compared to the lovely features of his beautiful wife. Her eyes were bright and shining, her smile more radiant than he had seen since their wedding day, and her enthusiasm seemed to match that of the little girl now bouncing up and down on her toes. She gave her husband a subtle wink then turned solemn as she looked back at the child in front of her.

"Miss Sybbie, I am very happy for you. It must be nice to have been asked to the fair. Unfortunately, I haven't been asked so you'll have to go without me and tell me all about it over a tea party."

The child's mouth gaped open and she looked back at Mr. Carson who was still standing in the doorway. "You have to ask her," she whispered loudly. "It's only proper that you ask her since you asked me, and I'm sure she'll go if you say please."

"If you're sure," he said, trying to sound a little unsure. She vigorously nodded her head and pulled him into the room. "Very well," he said. "Mrs. Carson, would you do us the honor of accompanying us to the fair … please?"

"Will you promise me a ride on the carousel and buy me a sweet?"

"I even promise to try to win you both a prize at one of the stalls, though if we don't get going, it will be someone's bedtime before we've even left."

Before long, the trio was headed into the village for Miss Sybbie's first fair. She was holding tightly to the hands of Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes while chattering away. Her enthusiasm was certainly contagious and by the time they reached the fairgrounds, they were laughing and speculating on what they might see and do while there.

At Charles's suggestion, they walked around the various stalls, games, and activities before making any decisions. He wanted both ladies to see everything there was to do before settling for one thing only to find something better a few steps away.

Sybbie had kept her eyes trained on the carousel. The gleaming horses, mermaids, tigers, zebras, and other animals going round and round, the bright twinkling lights, and the loud tinkling sort of music had captured her attention entirely. "Mr. Carson, I don't want anything else, but please ride the carousel with me. I promise not to ask you for another thing as long as I live," she offered by way of trying to sweeten the deal and get her way.

"No need to go that far, Miss Sybbie, and I'll happily pay for you and Mrs. Hughes to ride, if you'd like. I'm sure she'd enjoy it as much as you, maybe even more," he whispered loudly.

"But I want you … and Mrs. Hughes. Can't we all ride?"

Charles raised his eyebrow, unsure if he should give in to the little girl's request. One look into the pleading eyes of his wife and his fate was sealed. "Very well, then. We will all ride, just once mind you. Then, we'll find something that Mrs. Hughes wants to do. Does that sound acceptable?"

For the remainder of the evening, all Sybbie could talk about was the ride on the tiger and how exciting it was to have Mrs. Hughes hold her hand the whole way. She had properly hugged and thanked Mr. Carson for riding the horse beside hers just in case she got a little scared.

By the end of the evening, Charles, Elsie, and Sybbie were starting to grow tired of the crowds and the noise. "We should head back to the Abbey. It's getting close to your bedtime, lass, and we need to get home so we can get to bed, too," Elsie said softly as she brushed the hair back from Sybbie's forehead.

"We can't go just yet. Mr. Carson hasn't won you a prize. I thought you wanted him to try a game for you."

"Oh, lass, I don't need a prize from the fair. I have the memory of being asked to go, and then spending the evening with you and Mr. Carson. That was gift enough, don't you think? And he did buy us food, drinks, and that carousel ride. It was very generous of him."

"She's right, you know. What sort of date would I be if I didn't at least try to win something for my fair lady?" They walked around the various games and paused at a few to watch others playing. Charles, having been around traveling troupes and carnivals for quite some time during his Cheerful Charlie days, knew what to look for in an honest gamer and he knew the games with the best odds of winning. Satisfied that he had found a game where he might be successful, he placed Sybbie's hand in Elsie's and walked up to the gentleman running the game.

Nothing could have prepared Charles for what happened next. One minute he was ready to win his girl a prize and the next he was being confronted with a person from his distant past.

"Charlie Carson? Is that you? It's me … Ben … Ben Hawthorne. I'd recognize you anywhere! Goodness, it's been ages since you left the theatre. Where have you been?"

Charles felt his cheeks burning from embarrassment, wishing the man would lower his voice and praying that no one around him saw or heard the exchange. "I work at Downton Abbey. I am the butler there, and have been for quite some time," he answered politely, though hoping to put an end to the discussion rather quickly.

Having heard the exchange between the two men, Elsie decided to help Charles out of the situation. "Charlie, I think Sybbie is ready to head home. We're ready when you are," she said tenderly, giving his elbow a gentle and supportive squeeze.

"And who's this?" Ben asked, removing his hat and introducing himself to Elsie and Sybbie.

"This is my wife, Elsie, and this is Miss Sybbie," Charles answered, still wary of the man. Ben had always been a loud but honest sort of fellow, and he bore no ill will towards the man. He simply didn't want his past exposed to everyone in the village.

"Well, Charlie. I'll tell you what I'll do. Since you know how the games are played and no doubt have scouted out for the one with the best odds of winning, I'll make you a deal. You win your wife a prize, and I'll let your granddaughter choose any of the prizes. My way of saying thank you for being a decent sort of fellow, even back then."

Charles felt a surge of pride, though part of him felt guilty for not correcting Ben on his assumption that the little girl was their granddaughter. It would have been far too complicated to explain, and he noticed Elsie hadn't jumped in to correct the man, either. "I couldn't ask for a fairer deal than that, Ben, but only if you're sure." The man nodded and the terms of the game were set.

"Elsie, would you like anything in particular? Is there something that's caught your eye?"

"I'll be grateful for whatever you win, though you really don't need to do this."

He gave her hand a squeeze then surveyed the choices. His eyes settled on one prize in particular, and he was determined to win it. He was handed three rings and Elsie stepped back with Sybbie so as not to distract him. The first ring bounced off the nearby stand and landed on the ground. The second ring tapped a large ceramic vase, nearly knocking it off its perch. More confident now than before, Charles tossed the third ring at his goal and was rewarded with squeals of excitement as Elsie and Sybbie both cheered and clapped as the ring landed perfectly around the prize.

"Excellent choice, Charlie Carson! Your misses will be very happy with this lovely trinket box," he said, handing Charles the box. It was a small white ceramic box in the shape of a heart, large enough to hold hair pins, a broach, a few rings, or any number of smaller jewelry items. The lid of the box was adorned with a beautifully painted blue rose and a few intricate designs for embellishment.

Charles took the prize and grinned with pride as he offered it to Elsie. "Something to remember the evening by, Mrs. Carson," he said softly.

"It's beautiful, Charles. Thank you very much. It will look beautiful on my vanity table at home."

"Ah, don't forget about the little girl. A deal is a deal, Charlie," Ben said as they started to walk away. "I promised her anything in my stall." He leaned down and caught Sybbie's eye. "So, young lady, would you care to make your selection?"

She looked up at Charles, waiting for his approval, then to Elsie, seeking hers as well. Tentatively, she stepped towards the man. "Thank you very much," she said very softly.

Charles could see that she was a little intimidated by the stranger so he knelt down beside her while Elsie did the same on the other side. "Do you see anything in there that you'd like?"

She stood on her tiptoes and tried to see as best as she could, though having a little trouble making out what some of the items were supposed to be. "It's hard to tell."

"Mr. Carson, why don't you pick her up and give her a better vantage point? That might help her see more clearly."

He scooped the wee lass into his arms and suddenly, she could see all of her options laid out before her. Charles walked slowly around the game, giving her time to study the items until finally she clapped her hands and a huge grin overtook her face. "The tigers! May I please have them?" she asked, pointing at three ceramic tigers near the middle of the game.

"Interesting choice, little lady, but the choice is yours. I would have thought you'd want a doll or maybe a little statuette."

"I want the tigers because there are three of them and three of us," she said, taking the items from the man and cradling them to her chest. "I rode the tiger on the carousel earlier and they rode with me. So, in a way, it's like us. A man, a woman, and a little girl having a fun time together, like we always do. Thank you very much," she said to Ben and then kissed Charles on the cheek.

With her prize held firmly in her hand, she rested her head on Charles's shoulder and felt her eyes beginning to droop. Knowing she would be safe, she allowed herself to fall asleep as the trio walked back to Downton Abbey.

Charles and Elsie escorted Sybbie back to the nursery and made sure she was tucked in safely, her little tiger figurines on her beside table.

As Elsie crawled into her own bed that evening, she snuggled against Charles's side, pressing a warm, loving kiss to his lips. "I'm so proud of you, Charlie Carson, and I'm very proud to be your wife."

"What's brought this on?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close.

"You handled that business with your old acquaintance very well, and my handsome husband showed me a lovely evening at the fair. Thank you for that and for taking Miss Sybbie, too, though how did you know about the conversation I had with her earlier this week?"

He kissed the top of Elsie's head and he laced his fingers with her. "I heard her talking to you in your sitting room. She hadn't closed the door, and while I wasn't eavesdropping, it was hard not to overhear. I spoke to His Lordship and explained a portion of the conversation with him and he granted me permission to take her to the fair. He even went to so far as to say that he couldn't imagine anyone more suited to take her than the two of us," he finished with a little bit of pride seeping into his voice.

"And he's right. You were a perfect escort this evening, and we were both very lucky girls to have been asked by the most handsome man in all the world to be his date."

"I want you to be my date for the rest of my life, Elsie."

She stretched out so that her entire body was touching him, her hands threading through his hair as she drew his face down to hers for a passionate kiss. "I thought you'd never ask."

 **A/N:** Lots of woes with this one and some scrapped pages, too. Special thanks to Chelsiesouloftheabbey and DameofDownstairs for being such awesome sounding boards, for encouraging me to continue when I wanted to quit, and for their friendship! You ladies rock!


	11. Movie Theatre

**A/N:** This is an AU story, sort of. It's set in the autumn of 1957. _An Affair to Remember_ was released in the US on July 11, 1957, just fyi. Charles and Elsie have been happily married for years and are quite successful at home and in the workplace. And now, I give you …

 **Heavenly**

"Oh, I like that Cary Grant! He makes me shiver all over," Bery Patmore announced over dinner one evening at the home of her best friends, Charles and Elsie Carson.

"What a very disturbing thought," Charles muttered, promptly earning him a very shocked and disapproving look from his wife. Fortunately, Beryl missed his little commentary as she made her way to the kitchen for another slice of chocolate cake.

"Well, I think he's quite handsome, too, and I'm dying to see the new movie. I'm hoping you'll take me to see it, Charlie," Elsie said softly, reaching over to caress her husband's hand with her fingertips. "We could make an evening of it, if you wanted, of course."

His eyes softened, as did his entire demeanor. There was nothing he could ever deny his wife, nothing at all she could ask for that he wouldn't try to give. Lacing his fingers with hers, he brought her hand to his lips and brushed a feather light kiss to her knuckles, her palm, and the inside of her wrist. He was just leaning in to capture her lips with his own when Beryl chose that moment to return.

"By the look of things, I should probably be leaving this little love nest and return to my own humble cottage," she quipped with a cheeky smile on her face. "I can tell when I'm not wanted."

Elsie blushed and gave her husband a warm smile. "You're always welcome here, Beryl, you know that. Charles was just …"

"Yes, I can see quite clearly what ole Charlie here was just doing. And the phrase … here's your hat, what's your hurry … comes to mind." She couldn't contain her laughter when Charles cleared his throat and tried to sit a little straighter in his chair, struggling to compose himself in this most uncomfortable discussion.

"Oh, don't mind her, Charlie. She's just jealous. Besides, I've seen the way that Mr. Mason looks at you on Sundays, always dashing over after services to speak to you, walking you part of the way home! Honestly, maybe I should invite him over to dinner one evening and plant a few seeds of my own on your behalf."

Charles suddenly stood up and gathered his plate and Elsie's before heading off to the kitchen mumbling under his breath about matchmakers, improper invitations, and love. He would leave his wife and her best friend to their own devices. After all, if he didn't know the particulars, he could always claim innocence if things didn't go according to their plans.

As they settled in bed for the evening, Elsie curled up against Charles's side, resting her head on his chest and taking comfort in the familiarity of loving and being loved. Being married to Charles Carson had been the most wonderful years of her life, and she only wanted the same for her friend.

"Would you be terribly upset with me if I did invite Mr. Mason and Beryl to dinner one evening, Charlie?" she asked softly into the darkness, her fingers toying with a button on his pyjama shirt.

"You know I could never be upset with you," he said, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. "I simply don't see that it's any of our business, that's all. If Mr. Mason likes Beryl in that way, he could pluck up the courage and ask her out or at least make his intentions known instead of only speaking to her on Sundays or if he happens to pass her in the village during the week."

"Well, all men can't be you, Charlie Carson! Not everyone is able to walk into a room and command the attention of everyone there simply by being present, looking incredibly handsome, and sending shivers down the spines of every female in the room," she teased.

"Get away with you!"

"No, I mean it. You stole my heart away not long after we met, and I've not regretted it a single moment since." She stretched up and kissed him soundly on the lips, earning a deep moan of satisfaction from him, and encouraging him to forget all about sleep for the rest of the night.

For the next few weeks, Elsie had dropped little subtle hints about the upcoming movie, _An Affair to Remember._ She would keep him informed on the latest reviews, show him the promotional pictures of Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr, and remind him that he'd enjoyed the last movie they'd attended, _The King and I_ , despite his reluctance in the beginning.

He would smile and listen intently, as he always did when she spoke. Her enthusiasm and the very tone of her voice made him happy, and he made no attempts to hide his love for her. As they sat and enjoyed a glass of wine before bed, he placed his book aside and chose, instead, to watch her. Everything she did fascinated him, made him proud to call her his wife. When she caught him staring, she quirked an eyebrow in silent question.

"Can't a man simply enjoy watching his wife when she's so beautiful, and he loves her so very much?" He stretched out his hand beckoning her to join him. He watched as she gracefully stood and walked over to his chair, slipping into his lap and snuggling into his arms.

"What's brought this on, Mr. Carson?" She rested her head on his shoulder and carded her fingers through his hair soothingly.

"Nothing. I was merely counting my lucky stars and saying prayers that you love me, and we have a very happy marriage. I'll admit that sometimes that thought renders me speechless when I think of all the other men who would happily have courted and married you if given half the chance."

She shifted so that her face was in front of his, blue eyes locked with brown ones. "But none of those other men would have stood a chance once I met you, Charles. You are the only man for me, and I hope you know that."

"Aside from Cary Grant, you mean," he said with a smirk, earning him a playful slap on the arm.

"Well, considering he lives in America and you're here … I think you're pretty safe."

Charles burst into laughter and hugged Elsie tightly to him, tickling her sides for her cheeky comments. "Far be it from me to keep you apart from your American lover. I've left some money on the kitchen table. I was going to wait until tomorrow and let you find it but I can't wait. Take the money and go into town. Buy those tickets for opening night of the movie. We'll make an evening of it, get all dressed up, dinner somewhere fancy, truly spoil ourselves. We've earned it."

Elsie let out a squeal of delight and threw her arms around his neck, peppering his face with a multitude of kisses, the last one leaving them both quite breathless.

The following day, as Charles sat and studied the wine ledgers for Crawley and Company, he received a phone call from Elsie. "No need to rush home tonight, Charlie," she said softly, and he could tell something had upset her. She didn't sound as happy as she had when he'd left the house at lunch.

"Why? Got a date with a handsome bloke from the States?" he teased.

"No," she said softly. "I went to the theatre and tried to purchase tickets. The ticket lad said they were sold out and had been for a few days. I thought I would let you know so you didn't rush home. I'll prepare a beef stew or maybe some fish for supper."

It broke his heart to hear her so disappointed, and he felt incredibly guilty. If he hadn't dragged his feet about going or had purchased the tickets himself as a surprise, his wife would be spending the afternoon anticipating his arrival and their date for the evening. "I'm sorry, love. But we can go another evening. After all, this is just the first night. These things usually stay around for a few weeks. I promise you, you'll see it." He heard her hum her acceptance and a soft sigh. "I love you, Mrs. Carson."

"I love you, too, Mr. Carson. Now, I best be off. I've work to do and so do you," she said softly. "See you when you get home." With a soft click, the conversation ended and Charles sat back in his chair, his mind already whirling with ways to lighten her mood when he reached home.

After one important phone call and a stop by his favorite florist, Charles hurried to the cottage, hoping Elsie would be there instead of visiting with Beryl. "Elsie, love, I'm home," he called out, placing his hat on the coat rack and beginning to search the front rooms for her. He noticed that the door to the back garden was open, and as soon as he started in that general direction, Elsie came through with a confused look on her face.

"I thought I heard you. What in heavens name are you doing home at this hour? Is something wrong?"

He circled her waist with one arm and presented her with the bouquet of flowers. "Can't a man surprise his wife for no reason at all?" He leaned in and kissed her deeply, squeezing her to him and relishing in the sounds she made.

"If he comes in and kisses his wife like that and comes bearing flowers, he most certainly can," she laughed. "I'm sorry about the way I must have sounded on the phone earlier. I was just disappointed, but as you pointed out, there will be other opportunities to see the movie. I hope that's not what all this is about. I'd feel so very foolish."

"You, my dear, are the very last person I could call foolish. But, to be truthful, this is, in a way, about our evening plans." He guided her to the sofa in their living room and sat down, drawing her into his lap, giving her time to get settled before continuing. "You have approximately two hours before we have to leave this house for our date. I want you to wear your prettiest dress and that lovely smile of yours, please."

She was already shaking her head. "Charlie, you don't have to take me out to dinner just because I was a little disappointed. I don't mind having a quiet evening at home."

"And are you prepared to tell Cary Grant the same thing? You have a date with him in two hours, give or take a bit, but if you'd rather not go …"

"Go? But the movie doesn't start until eight and they're sold out. I told you that already. We can plan to go another night, but it seems everyone else decided to go on opening night, too."

"Ah, you underestimate me, love. You see, I called in a favor and you … well, that is to say … we … have an appointment in two hours at the movie theatre. Then, after we've enjoyed the show, and while everyone else is seeing it, we can go to dinner at a restaurant of your choosing, then maybe take a walk down by the lake. The main thing is … you need to get yourself sorted."

Elsie sat in his lap, unmoving and utterly astonished. This man, this wonderful and amazing man, had gone to great lengths just to see her happy. Tears spilled from her eyes as she stared into his face, words abandoning her as she was overcome with emotions. She reached up to wipe them from her cheeks but was stopped as he reached up and tenderly stroked her face.

"Happy tears?" he ventured nervously.

She nodded her head vigorously. "Happy, and overwhelmed, and shocked. I don't know how you managed it, Charlie. They told me all the seats were taken."

"And they are. You are correct. But, I know the manager. I helped his son earn a position in a very prominent restaurant in London as their sommelier. Since then, the lad has gone on to become respected in London and is earning quite a bit. Walter was only too happy to arrange a little something for me. I explained that my pretty wife had her heart set on seeing this movie on opening night, that all the tickets were gone, and I would greatly appreciate any help he could give me."

"I don't know if I've told you lately, or even enough for that matter, but you are wonderful and I love you so very much."

He chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose. "You haven't, and I thank you. Now, please go upstairs and do whatever it is you think you need to do. We need to leave the cottage no later than half past five. Our movie starts promptly at six," he said, giving her a little squeeze and helping her to her feet.

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "I don't know what I ever did to deserve you, Charles Edward Carson, but I'm ever so grateful that I did." She placed a quick peck to his lips, then slipped from his arms and practically ran upstairs to bathe and dress for the evening.

Charles gave her plenty of uninterrupted time before going upstairs to freshen up and change into a different suit and tie. As he entered their bedroom, he could hear her singing, and it warmed his heart to know that she was so happy and excited.

Promptly at six o'clock, they arrived at the doors of the theatre. "Walter, I'd like you to meet my lovely wife, Elsie. She's been looking forward to this movie for weeks, and you've made her a happy woman."

Walter gave a slight nod of his head towards his friend and offered Elsie a warm smile. "The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Carson. Your husband phoned and explained the situation to me. There was no way I could refuse his simple request. I hope you both will enjoy the show. Oh, and please feel free to stop by the concessions for a box of popcorn … on the house. Amelia, here, will get you settled and then I'll start the movie reel."

Charles gripped his friend's hand tightly, silently thanking him for his generosity and expressing his gratitude. He was about to follow Amelia and Elsie when Walter stopped him.

"Two things. You and your wife will be the only ones in the theatre. Amelia and I will be out front preparing for the eight o'clock showing if you need anything. Also, I hope you brought a handkerchief. It might come in quite handy towards the end." He clapped Charles on the shoulder and gave him a gentle shove towards the ladies, a broad smile on the faces of both men.

Elsie chose seats in the very middle of the theatre and waited with great anticipation for the start of the movie. "No matter what I end up thinking of this movie, Charlie, I want you to know that I love you so much for making this happen."

"More than Cary Grant?" he asked, reaching over to pat her knee, a little twinkle in his eyes.

Elsie turned fully in her seat to face her husband. "You keep saying little things like that, Charles. Why? Do you honestly think I'd find him more attractive or interesting than you? I know it was teasing in the beginning but you've said it quite a lot, actually."

"What's not to like, I suppose? He's rich, handsome, successful, and I did hear a rumor that he makes you shiver all over." He cast his eyes down to their joined hands, not wishing her to see the small hint of jealousy that he was certain was invading his eyes.

"That, my dear husband, was Beryl! I never said that. The only man that's ever or will ever make me shiver all over is the one sitting right beside me, holding my hand, and taking me to dinner after this movie is over. Though, I will admit that it's nice to know that my husband can get a little jealous of my crush on a movie star."

He gave a quiet little grunt and raised his eyebrows. "Well, I wouldn't want you to think I'd gone off you, or the idea of being married to you. I am not good with displays of affection, though you know you have my heart entirely." Daringly, he leaned over and kissed her slowly, passionately on the lips, momentarily forgetting where they were and why they were there. When he pulled back, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and whispered softly. "Not entirely proper, but there you have it."

"Mr. Carson, all women need someone to show a bit of interest every now and then, preferably in a manner that is not entirely proper." She shifted in her seat so that she was as close to him as she could get given the seating arrangement. She looped her arm through his and for the next two hours, they enjoyed the movie curled up together. Her head rested on his shoulder and his warm hand settled on her thigh, his fingertips occasionally stroking her leg through the fabric of her dress.

When the movie finally drew to a close, Charles reached into his pocket for his handkerchief. Instead of handing it to Elsie to dry her eyes, he tenderly dabbed the tears away for her. "Are you going to be okay, sweetheart?"

She nodded her head and sniffed. "It was such a lovely movie, and I'm so glad they were together in the end."

He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her to his side. "Yes, it all worked out well in the end, didn't it? And I'm sure he never left her side again."

"She shouldn't have kept it a secret from him, though. It's wasn't fair to him," she ventured, then stopped when she remembered her health scare a few years before they were married.

As if he was reading her thoughts, he pressed a kiss to her temple. "They learned their lesson, and so did we, Elsie. No looking back. No regrets. No secrets. Just trust, happiness, and love, wouldn't you agree?"

With no warning, Elsie threw her arms around him and kissed him soundly, letting all of her emotions play out through her lips on his, her arms wrapped tightly around him. He was her one true love, the man who made each day better just by being part of it, and she had an overwhelming desire to let him know, yet she knew he already did.

" _I want us to live as closely as two people can for the time that remains to us on earth,"_ he had said when he proposed and that sentiment had carried them through minutes, days, and years of wedded bliss. Today was just another of those magic filled days.

Suddenly, a man cleared his voice behind them and they broke apart, both embarrassed and with red cheeks. "I suppose this means that you enjoyed the movie," Walter joked from the back of the theatre.

"It was very moving," Elsie answered, hastily wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand.

"Take your time, but I wanted to warn you that there's already a queue forming outside for the movie. I didn't want you to be surprised when you reached the lobby and see almost everyone you know," he said with a laugh.

Charles thanked the man and waited until he was gone before caressing Elsie's cheek. "Ready to go to dinner, love? We have the rest of the night to talk about the movie, or anything else on your mind."

Elsie stood and smoothed down her dress, touched the back of her hair to make sure it was all in place, and squared her shoulders. "Ready."

Charles reached down and took her hand in his, giving it a squeeze as they exited the theatre to the lobby. They weren't surprised to see so many familiar faces there, especially since Walter had alerted them to the line forming. They stopped and chatted with a few of their friends along the way, trying to avoid answering questions about the movie or how they were treated to a special screening.

"Mrs. Carson, aren't you the lucky woman? How on earth did you manage to see the movie before the rest of us in the village?" Mrs. Wigan asked in a honeyed tone that was sickeningly sweet.

Elsie wrapped her arm around Charles's arm and smiled. "My very own Cary Grant, here, arranged it," she answered, giving a little wink to her husband and smiling proudly. "He's quite the plotter when he wants to be."

"Hmm! And what did you think of the movie, particularly the ending? I hear it's quite sad."

"I enjoyed it very much. And the ending … well, let's just say that it was quite … heavenly." She cast a quick glance at her speechless husband and one to Walter. "And the evening isn't over yet." Elsie gave Charles's hand a little pat. "I believe we have dinner plans, Charlie. We wouldn't want to be late or to keep Mrs. Wigan from her movie."

They bid everyone else a pleasant evening then stepped out into the fresh autumn air. "What was all of that about in there, Elsie? It's not like you to be so … so …"

"Possessive?"

"Well, that wasn't the word I was going to use."

"Mr. Carson, one day I will tell you all about the women in this village and how you're perceived among them. But tonight, the only woman I want on your mind is me, and I can promise you, you are the only man who fills my thoughts, day and night. Now, shall we go to dinner and then have an early night? I'm sure we have more important things to do than to discuss the postmistress or an actor from across the Atlantic."

"Sounds like the closest thing to heaven … because I'll be sharing it all with you."

 **The End!**

 ****** Thank you so much for reading the story. I hope you'll take a moment or two and let me know what you thought of my answer to the Chelsie Prompt: movie theatre. Hugs and kisses!


	12. Silver and Gold

**Silver and Gold**

Snow had been falling for most of the day, heavier at times, barely there at others. Its soft blanket of white gathered on the tree branches and the ground, transforming the grey winter day into a winter wonderland outside the Carson's cottage. Charles had even drawn Elsie's attention to the snowflake patterns formed on the window panes, finding something beautiful and unique about each one. It was something neither of them had ever stopped to consider but now, in the comfort of their home, they could afford these little pastimes, these little gateways into the simpler joys of life and love.

A roaring fire had kept the downstairs rooms quite toasty though not so warm that the Carsons hadn't relished the opportunity to cuddle up together under a thick blanket for an afternoon nap on their sofa. After lunch, Charles had suggested that they go upstairs for a little nap in their comfortable bed but Elsie had insisted they snuggle close together and watch the falling snow while admiring their little Christmas tree. She hadn't really needed to convince him. He was only too happy to oblige his wife, and in truth, he liked her idea more than his own.

The small evergreen sat in one corner of the living room, its branches not overly burdened with expensive ornaments like the tree at the Abbey, though beautifully decorated with colorful and meaningful ones, ones they had purchased together. Charles had even surprised Elsie by purchasing electric lights for the tree. And every night since, they had managed to spend a few minutes, sometimes more, curled up and enjoying the twinkling lights, every other source of light in the house extinguished except for the soft glow emanating from the corner of their sitting room and the amber warmth from the fireplace.

Their little afternoon nap had been blissful, making them reluctant to move. Elsie was more than content to remain wrapped in Charles's arms, listening to his steady breathing, his strong heartbeat beneath her ear. The quiet moments like these were ones she truly relished and cherished. Never before had she imagined the sheer overwhelming contentment and love that could be found by simply being close to the one she loved.

"Mmmm, can we stay like this forever," he asked, his rich voice sending a thrill through her body as he spoke.

"You'll hear no complaints from me," she answered with a smile and a sigh of deep tranquility, "though I fear you will eventually grow weary of me draped over you like this." She pressed a light kiss to the underside of his jaw and then tucked her head beneath his chin for just a moment longer.

"I waited a lifetime for you, my dear, and every moment I have you in my arms is a blessing. I love you, Elsie, more than you will ever know." The sincerity of his words and the warmth of his breath across the top of her head caused her shiver.

"And you, Charlie, are everything I've ever wanted in a husband. I never thought I'd find happiness like my Da and Mam. But, you proved me wrong," she said as a tear slipped down her cheek, unnoticed by Charles.

He chuckled softly. "Goodness, we'd better mark this day on the calendar! I proved Elsie Carson wrong on something. No wonder it's snowing so hard outside the cottage." His comment earned him a playful swat on the chest and a pinch to his leg.

"Just for that, I think I'll get up and go start our supper. It's a perfect night for a pot of hot soup and we still have that half a loaf of bread you bought from the bakery." Elsie gently maneuvered herself until she was sitting beside Charles, her hair looking a bit frayed from their nap.

Charles sat and admired his wife as she brushed the invisible wrinkles from her blouse and tried to straighten her hair. She was fussing with one particular wisp around her face when he reached up and caught her wrist gently in his hand. "Here, let me." With nimble fingers, with no signs of the tremors which often plagued him in varying degrees, he lovingly tucked the bit of hair behind her ear before lightly trailing his thumb down the side of her neck. His hand, large and warm, clasped her shoulder and urged her forward until he was able to capture her lips with his for a slow, sensual kiss.

"Goodness, Mr. Carson! It's a good thing I'm already seated or I'd need a fainting couch. You do have quite a way with words but sometimes you speak volumes by your actions." She used the pad of her thumb to brush across his lips, her dainty hand cupping his cheek. "Now, let me get on or we'll never eat supper at a decent time. You can keep me company in the kitchen, if you'd like."

He shook his head. "I'll leave you to the soup and bread. I'll do the washing up after, if that's fine with you?" When she nodded, he smiled. "I need to make sure we have enough firewood brought in, and I'm sure Katie would appreciate the chance to go outside before the snow piles get much higher. It was hard enough convincing her to go out this morning and that was before it really started to fall hard."

Katie, their little black and white dog, was sleeping contentedly underneath their Christmas tree but she perked up when she heard Charles speaking her name and talking of going outdoors. "Looks like your little companion won't put up much of a fuss about going out this time. I'll be sure to save her some beef before I add it to the soup pot." Elsie kissed Charlie's cheek then eased herself up from their warm, comfortable sofa and stretching. She gave a little yelp of surprise as Charles tapped her bottom playfully but she returned the teasing by ruffling his hair then proudly making her way to the kitchen.

While Elsie tended to their supper, Charles replenished the firewood supply in the wood bin, making certain they had plenty inside the cottage to get them through the next few days. Given the way the skies had looked compared to earlier in the day, he was certain they were in for another day of snow showers, possibly two. With his main task completed, Katie and Charles took a brief walk down the lane to inspect the path leading to the main road and the path leading to the Abbey, also giving Katie ample time to complete her own business outside before they both returned to the cottage and the warmth within.

"Soup and bread smell delicious," Charles complemented as he stepped up behind Elsie, the cold from his fingertips seeping through her blouse and chilling her almost to the bone.

"Goodness, you're half frozen. Get upstairs this minute and run a hot bath. The last thing I want is for you to be sick for Christmas. By the time you're done, the soup will be ready and we can eat." She shooed him from her kitchen and listened for his footsteps on the stairs before turning her attention back to the small butter cake she was making for their dessert.

Just as she predicted, by the time Charles returned downstairs, dressed in his pajamas, robe, and slippers, Elsie was taking their cake from the oven. "Charlie, be a dear and get the bowls, please. Oh, and a plate for Katie's beef. It's on the counter, just there," she said pointing towards the container to his left.

"Yes, Mrs. Patmore. Anything you say, Mrs. Patmore. As you wish, Mrs. Patmore," he said in his best imitation of Daisy.

"You'd better pray she never hears you or she'll have your hide," Elsie warned. "She's gotten much better about bossing Daisy about, thankfully." She stepped up to his side and rubbed his back. "I'm happy to see you're wearing your warm robe and slippers. You'll be quite cozy as we eat our dinner."

"Why don't you go upstairs and change, too? Then, I won't feel so underdressed for supper."

"You'll set the table and dish up the soup while I'm gone?"

"Yes … Mrs. Carson!"

With Elsie safely upstairs, Charles hurried make sure everything was exactly as he wanted it before she returned. The small table in front of their sofa was cleared of the books and replaced with a pretty tablecloth and their bowls of soup and the bread. Two wine glasses and a bottle of their favorite red wine also graced the makeshift table along with their cloth napkins and soup spoons. White tapered candles were lit on each end of the table, giving a romantic glow to the table. When he was satisfied with everything else, Charles turned out the lights in the cottage and waited, rather impatiently, for the sound of Elsie's footsteps on the stairs.

As soon as she reached the top of the landing, Elsie saw Charles standing at the bottom, looking up at her as if she was a fairy princess at her debutant ball with his hand outstretched in silent invitation. Slowly, she descended the stairs and took his hand. "What's all this about?"

"A little romantic dinner with my wife. I thought we might eat in the sitting room tonight. Dine by candle, fire, and tree light," he said, looping his arm around her waist and guiding her into the room where she could fully assess his efforts. He gave her a moment to fully take in the scene before speaking softly into her ear. "I hope you like it."

Elsie turned and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Charlie, it's perfect. Everything from the table to the candles … just perfect."

He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, not fully kissing here but merely teasing her a little. His next words were spoken against her lips. "Turn around. Take another look." He nuzzled her nose with his before guiding her by the shoulders to do as he'd requested.

Slowly, she turned, letting her eyes adjust fully to the low light in the room. Katie was happily curled up near the tree, her empty food dish proof that she had enjoyed her dinner. The romantic table setting Charles had quickly improvised, simple yet elegant as was to be expected given her husband's former profession. The pillows on the couch had been fluffed and the blanket was neatly folded. And then, she spotted them, a quick gasp escaping her lips.

Hanging from the mantle were two beautiful stockings, one made of soft silver cloth and the other made from a similar gold fabric. "Where did those come from?" she asked with a voice filled with excitement and curiosity.

"I had them specially made for us, love. I hope you approve." He took her hand and led her over to the mantle so she could inspect them closer. "The day we bought the ornaments for the tree, we talked about our childhoods and what Christmases were like. I remember both of us had fond memories of finding our stockings on Christmas morning, seeing what Father Christmas had left." He took both her hands in his and brought them to his lips for a quick kiss. "I haven't been this excited about Christmas since I was a lad, and I think you're feeling much the same way. I thought it might be nice if we were to start our own tradition of hanging stockings from our mantle. I'll fill your stocking with little surprises … you fill mine … only if you want to, of course."

"Want to? Charlie, I'd like to see you try and stop me. You have to be, without a doubt, the most thoughtful, generous, loving husband. And the stockings are beautiful."

"I had them especially made for us. I chose the fabric with you and me in mind. Silver, well because my hair is turning more and more silver by the week, and it reminded me, in a way, of the silver cupboard and all that polishing I used to do when I was upset about something at the house, when you and I were not in complete agreement."

"Oh, I don't know about that, love. Silver always reminds me of the finer things in life … like you. It's strong, reliable, bright, and is one of the most precious things on earth," she said, wiping a tear away from his eye. "That's how I see you so I'm proud that you chose a silver stocking for yourself."

He closed the distance between them and captured her lips with his. "Would you like me to tell you why I chose gold for you?" he asked, watching as she reached out to stroke first his silver stocking then her gold one. He wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her back against his chest.

"Yes, tell me, please," she asked, snuggling into his arms and enjoying the quiet closeness of the moment. When he spoke next, his lips were right beside her ear and his voice was low and soft.

"Gold is one of the most precious things on earth. I could say the same about you in my life. It's strong and durable, like someone I know quite well," he said, drawing his finger slowly down her face from her temple to her jaw. "It's simple and elegant, and has this wonderful shine." He took her left hand in his and brought it between them, directing her gaze down to the small band on her ring finger. "It also reminds me that I have the love of a wonderful woman, whose heart is also made of gold."

This time, it was Charles's turn to wipe away the tears.

"Let's forget about the soup and bread. I'm suddenly not very hungry."

Charles kissed the tip of her nose and wrapped her in a warm hug. "Well, unfortunately for both of us, I am starving. We can enjoy this lovely meal you've prepared, sample that delicious cake, talk about what we might like to see in those new stockings on Christmas morning, and then … well, then I promise to take you upstairs and do whatever you'd like for as long as you wish."

Elsie shook her head and laughed so loudly that it woke Katie from a sound sleep. "Very well, Mr. Carson. Let's sit down to supper and you can regale me with tales of childhood sweets from Father Christmas, what you hope you'll find in your silver stocking, and how you're going to make amends for turning down your wife's offer of an early night."

Charles guided her to their little makeshift dining table, helping her get settled, then joining her on the couch. He poured them each a generous glass of wine then made a toast, to his bride with the heart of gold and a stocking to match. She, in turn, made a toast to the silver lining in her life, her silver haired butler who was more precious than gold.

 **A/N:** Oh, the struggles that went along with this story. Special shout out to my amazing friends for encouraging me to continue even though I scrapped this story and the very idea of writing more than once this past week. They believed in me when I didn't truly believe in myself, and I love them for that!

I'd appreciate it if you'd drop me a line to let me know what you think of the story and my efforts. This was written in response to the Chelsie Prompts challenge on Tumblr for a story featuring "silver and gold."

This chapter is part of the "Decisions" universe but is not intended to take the place of the Christmas special chapter to be posted with that story. So, don't forget to look for that chapter at some point on Christmas Day! Love and hugs to you all! xoxo


	13. Hot Chocolate

**Hot Chocolate**

"If you'll lock up and switch out the lights, I'll go upstairs and stoke the fire and turn down the bed." Elsie gave Charles a tight squeeze and kissed his cheek before getting up from her comfortable position, wrapped up in his arms as they cuddled on the sofa.

"Fair enough. I'll need to let Katie out once more and then we'll both be upstairs and ready to snuggle with you, love." Charles stood and drew her into his arms and kissed her softly on the lips. "It's supposed to be very cold tonight, so I'll bring up an extra log."

Elsie wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on her tiptoes until her lips were brushing his. "I'm sure we'll be just fine and toasty without that extra log, Charlie. We can snuggle together and throw another blanket on the bed if necessary." She rubbed his nose with hers and grinned. "If I get cold, I can always snuggle closer to you," she said softly. "You won't mind that, will you?" she practically purred.

Charles swallowed hard and shook his head. "You know I don't mind. The closer the better, if you ask me." His voice rumbled through his body and into hers, causing a different kind of shiver to race up and down her spine. "Though, I only ask one thing," he said, his warm breath caressing her neck and ear.

"Anything, love," she half moaned as his lips settled just behind her ear on the spot that caused her knees to go weak. "Name it."

He nipped playfully at her earlobe and grinned. "Socks! Put some socks on those little ice blocks you call feet," he said with a hearty laugh and a tap to her bottom. "I love burrowing under the blankets with you, and all that entails," he said with a waggle of his eyebrows, "but your little toes can be a mood killer."

Elsie swatted his chest playfully. "Just for that, I should let you sleep down here on the sofa. Katie and I can keep warm upstairs." They both knew Elsie was teasing. She'd never make Charles sleep on the sofa. They would both be miserable, and she'd miss her big bear of a husband if he wasn't there to hold her at night.

He rubbed his hands up and down her back. "What if I promised to think of some other way to keep you toasty warm from your pretty head to those frosty toes, Mrs. Carson? Would I still be banished to this cold and desolate room, all alone without even the company of our dog to share my lonely night?"

She pretended to give it some serious consideration before finally giving him her answer. "I'll be upstairs slipping out of my nightgown and into a pair of your warmest socks, Mr. Carson. Don't keep me waiting too long," she teased, patting his chest and letting her hand glide down his body until she snapped the waistband of his pajama bottoms. Before he could reply, she was already making her way up the stairs to their bedroom. Playful or not, she would be adding another log to their bedroom fire, though, whatever she might have just said to her husband.

Charles stood dumbfounded for a moment, replaying the conversation in his head. He smiled to himself, thanking his lucky stars for sending Elsie into his life and for their happy, healthy married life. He might have stood there contemplating his good fortune longer had Katie not dashed to the back door, begging for a chance to go outside one last time before bed. "Alright, I'm coming. Be quick about it, though. It's cold and the last thing I need is your cold, wet nose pressed against me on one side and your Mam's feet on the other," he said with a chuckle as he opened the door for Katie.

While he waited on their little dog to take care of her needs, Charles went through his nightly routine, checking the windows, banking the fire, and setting out the teacups on the counter for their morning cuppa. He had just let Katie back in and locked the door leading out to the garden when he thought he heard the distinct sound of a car motor outside. Shaking his head at his own folly, he switched off the lights in their sitting room. His foot was on the bottom step when he heard the soft rapping on their front door, causing him to stop in mid-step, listening carefully to make sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him.

"Mr. Carson? Mrs. Carson? It's Tom … Tom Branson," he man on the other side of the door called out. He had seen the lights going off in the little cottage, and he hoped to catch one or both of them before they went upstairs.

Hurriedly, Charles went to the door and opened it, surprised to see Tom Branson and Miss Sybbie on his stoop. "Please, Mr. Branson, come in. And Miss Sybbie, whatever are you doing out in this cold night air … and in you nightdress, no less?" Charles gave Tom a stern, questioning look. "I hope nothing's wrong at the house?"

"Mr. Carson, please, I need to see Mrs. Hughes," Sybbie said with a soft, weak voice. "It's important," she said, starting to cry once more.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Carson. She's been crying for over an hour and she kept asking for Mrs. Hughes. She wouldn't tell any of us why she was so upset. Nanny said she woke up from a bad dream and hasn't settled since."

Charles smiled sweetly at the little girl and reached out to gently caress her cheek. "Mrs. Hughes has gone up to bed, already, little lady." He watched as tears suddenly started to pool in Sybbie's eyes. She hadn't let Carson finish so he hurried on. "But, if you'd like to go sit by the fire with Katie, I'll go up and tell her you're here. You can show your Papa the way," he said softly, patting her gently on the head as he looked up at Tom. "I won't be long. Please, make yourself comfortable and warm by the fire."

Charles quickly climbed the stairs and opened the bedroom door, making sure to close it behind him immediately.

"There you are," Elsie said with a warm smile. "I'm awfully cold all alone up here and …"

"Elsie, get dressed. We have visitors downstairs," he said quickly. "Mr. Branson and Miss Sybbie are here, and she's quite upset about something. They drove here in an effort to appease her. She is asking for you, love."

She bolted out of bed and quickly began pulling on her knickers, nightdress, and robe, making sure to belt it quickly and tightly. She never even bothered with her slippers since her feet were warm in a pair of Charles's woolen socks. "She's not hurt, is she? No physical pains?" she asked, already making her way down the stairs in a rush.

"Not that I'm aware of, though I only got the basics. She looked like she was about to burst into tears and you know how I am with that."

"I know, love, but I'm sure she'll be just fine. I'll get to the bottom of it. Now, you keep Mr. Branson occupied while I see to the lass." Quickly, Elsie descended the stairs and took a minute to assess the situation before fully entering the sitting room where the little girl, her father, and the dog sat patiently.

"I told you I'd be back," Charles called softly to Sybbie, watching as the young girl shifted in her father's arms. "I just needed a minute to let her know you were here."

Charles and Tom watched as Sybbie's face brightened and she dashed from her father's arms, not stopping until she was safely ensconced in Elsie's warm and inviting arms.

Elsie had knelt down just seconds before her arms were filled with the little girl, Sybbie breathing an audible sigh of relief as Elsie cradled her to her chest. "Here, now, love, what's all this about?" she asked in a soothing voice. Elsie was just as curious as everyone else in the house, and likely everyone at the Abbey, too, as to why the girl insisted on seeing her.

Sybbie wrapped her arms tightly around Elsie's neck and clung to her for dear life, as if she were in mortal peril and might disappear at any moment. She felt and then heard the little girl starting to softly cry against her shoulder, and Elsie tried her best to soothe the small, precious girl in her arms.

"Shhh, you don't have to tell me right now, Miss Sybbie. How about you and I go into the kitchen and make some hot cocoa for everyone? I could use your expert help," she said gently, hoping to stop her crying and perhaps unearth the cause of her tears.

"I'd like that very much, Mrs. Hughes." She looked back at her father and Mr. Carson, giving them a small smile. "Would you like some hot cocoa, too?"

"I'd love a cup," Charles answered as Tom nodded his head in agreement. "We'll wait right here for you ladies, if that's agreeable."

"We won't be long," Elsie said with a bright smile before taking Sybbie's hand and leading her into the kitchen.

Once they were alone, Elsie began to gather the ingredients for their little chocolaty treat. She pulled a chair over to the stove so Sybbie could easily help her add the ingredients and stir the pot occasionally. "I'm glad you came to see me tonight," she said softly. "I wouldn't have had a reason to make hot chocolate tonight, otherwise."

"I'm sorry it's so late, Mrs. Hughes, but I just had to see you," Sybbie said, her little lip trembling as she spoke. "It couldn't wait until morning, but nobody would listen to me. And all I wanted was to see you."

Elsie smoothed the girls back from Sybbie's face and pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head, her arm wrapped comfortingly around the little girl's shoulder. "I see. Well, you've got my undivided attention now," she said as she added a little more cream to the chocolate in the pot. "Won't you share your secret with me? You've got me terribly worried."

Sybbie thought for a long moment as she watched Elsie pouring the drinks into pretty little cups. "I'll tell you but not in front of Mr. Carson or Papa. They might think I'm being silly or get angry because it's so late."

"I promise you, lass, they won't be angry or upset. We're all just very curious and concerned. It's not like you to be so upset. So, whatever it is that's worrying you, we only want to know so we can help. I promise you, that's all. Your Papa wouldn't have come all this way this late at night if he didn't want to make you happy again." Elsie put two cups of hot chocolate and a plate of biscuits on a tray then looked over at the little girl in her kitchen. "You think on that while I take these to Mr. Carson and your Papa. Mind you, it's hot so don't burn your tongue," she warned and gave the little girl a wink before heading to the sitting room.

Elsie found both men pacing the floor in front of the fireplace, talking in hushed tones, and both looking equally worried. "Before you ask, she hasn't said anything other than the fact that she's worried you'll both be upset with her for dragging you out here this late at night. I assured her that's not going to be the case. I added a little something extra to your cups to help with the frayed nerves," she added before returning to the kitchen and her little charge.

"Mrs. Hughes, I think I'm ready to tell you now," Sybbie said as she took another careful sip of her cocoa. Elsie blew on her hot cocoa to cool it a little while she listened and absorbed every word. "I had a very bad dream, and it seemed so real. That's what woke Nanny. She tried to tell me it was just a dream but she doesn't understand. She didn't know Mama like you did, or Mr. Carson."

Elsie reached over and tucked a curl behind Sybbie's ear. "You had a dream about your Mama? Love, that happens sometimes. I still dream about my Mam, and she's been gone for longer than yours."

Sybbie shook her head as a fresh wave of tears spilled down her already reddened cheeks. "No, it wasn't just about Mama. You were there, too, and you were going away. We were supposed to read and bake cookies but when I went to your sitting room, you weren't there. Everyone was crying. I ran and ran through the house but couldn't find Mr. Carson, either. He was supposed to read the next chapter in my book while we ate the cookies but the book was on your desk. I was so scared because you were both gone, and I didn't get a chance to say goodbye … or that I love you very much," she said as her little body began to shake with sobs.

Tears were flowing freely down Elsie's face and she quickly gathered the girl into her arms and rocked her gently. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm so very sorry about your bad dream. But, we must remember that it was just that … a nasty little dream. Mr. Carson and I are both very well, and we have no plans to go anywhere anytime soon," she said, kissing the top of Sybbie's head and holding her tightly in her arms.

"But it seemed so real. When I woke up and you weren't at the house, I got very scared. I just had to see you to make sure you were fine. I'm sorry if I woke you up from your dreams. Mr. Carson said you were already in bed when we arrived."

"I was, indeed, but I hadn't gone to sleep just yet. I was just settling down for the night … and you should, too."

Sybbie snuggled deeper into Elsie's arms. "I'm afraid to go back to sleep. What if my dream comes back or it's worse the next time? What if you, Mr. Carson, and Papa are all gone in the next dream?"

"Then, we'll just have to do our best to make sure that doesn't happen, won't we?" Elsie pulled the steaming mug of chocolate closer to Sybbie. "Why don't you finish this, and then we'll see if we can convince Mr. Carson to read us a chapter in your book? We can snuggle on the sofa with Katie and, when you're ready, your Papa can take you home and tuck you into your own bed."

"But I don't have my book. It's on your desk, just like in my dream," she answered sadly.

"Ah, your book is there, but I happen to know that Mr. Carson has his very own copy of _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland,_ and I'm sure you can help him remember which chapter we're supposed to read next."

She took a long sip of her now cooling chocolate and quickly ate the last biscuit. "Would you ask him for me? I'm still a little afraid they might be upset with me."

"I'll ask, but you mustn't worry. We all have bad dreams from time to time, and they can seem incredibly real. I'll let you in on a little secret. I sometimes have bad dreams, and Mr. Carson holds me tightly until I'm calmer. And even he has dreams that aren't so nice."

"And do you hold him until they go away?"

"I do. That's what we do for those we love very much, just like I'm holding you in my lap and your Papa loved you enough to drive all the way here in the cold tonight."

Sybbie wrapped her arms around Elsie's neck and kissed her cheek. "I love you, Mrs. Hughes, and I'm awfully glad you're not going anywhere for a very long time." She slipped off Elsie's lap and took her hand, timidly leading her into the room where her father and Mr. Carson waited.

"Mr. Carson, Miss Sybbie and I would like it very much if you could read us the next chapter in our book. We think that will give us better dreams than the one we had most recently which happened to be quite scary. Isn't that right, Miss Sybbie?"

"Please, Mr. Carson? Mrs. Hughes says you have a copy of the Alice book, and I think it will make me feel better." Tom sat in amazement as the two adults gently tended to his young daughter, treating her as if she were truly one of their own. His love and admiration for Mrs. Hughes only grew as he watched the maternal figure in his life gather his little darling girl into her arms, pull an afghan from the back of the sofa, and settle in so that the paternal figure in his life could read to his child. Quickly, Tom wiped away the tears of gratefulness as he sat quietly in the corner and listened.

By the time Charles had finished the chapter, Sybbie was sleeping soundly in Elsie's arms, her little hand clutching Elsie's hand to her chest. Unfortunately, every time Elsie made to move the little girl, she would give a little whimper and snuggle deeper into Elsie's embrace.

"I'll just have to wake her and take her home," Tom said softly as he brushed the hair back from her forehead.

"No, just leave her," Elsie announced suddenly, then looked over pleadingly at Charles, hoping he would understand. His subtle nod was all the encouragement she needed. "Go home and get some sleep. Tell Nanny we will bring her with us when we come in tomorrow. She can spend the morning here with us, playing with Katie, and maybe reading another chapter or two in our book. She won't be any trouble."

"I couldn't impose on you, either of you," he said turning to Charles and offering what he hoped was a sincere apology for interrupting their evening.

"Mrs. Hughes is right. She's certainly no trouble. She's small enough that she can sleep with us. That way, if she has another nightmare, Elsie will be there to soothe her, and you and Nanny will get some rest." Charles cleared his throat, suddenly worried that he might have overstepped his boundaries. "Of course, she is your daughter and you would know what's best for her, Mr. Branson."

Tom smiled at Charles then turned his face towards Elsie. "Right now, she has the best of everything," he said with emotion creeping into his voice. "She has the love of two wonderful people who have taken her into their own hearts as if she were their own." He bent down and kissed his daughter's forehead, smiling as she turned her head away from him and burrowing closer to Elsie. "Well, that's me told off, then," he said with a laugh. "You're sure?"

"Go. We'll bring her home tomorrow."

"Phone the house in the morning, and let me know what time you'd like me to send the car for you."

"We can walk as we always do," Charles answered quickly.

"No, Mr. Carson, we can't. Seems this little lass came out of the house with no shoes," Elsie said, lifting the afghan to show him her ten little perfect toes. "Neither of us can carry her that far, so we'll phone in the morning, Mr. Branson."

As Elsie carried Sybbie upstairs to get her settled for the night, Charles showed Tom to the door then once more secured the house before climbing the stairs. After stoking the fire in the bedroom and slipping into bed, Charles turned out the lights, his arm draped protectively across Sybbie and his hand resting on Elsie's back as she hugged the girl to her.

"I love you, Charlie. Thank you for not arguing with me on this," she whispered into the darkness.

"I love you, too, Elsie. I could see how much it meant to both of you to be together. Was her dream really that bad?"

Elsie moved his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. "Yes, love, it was. She dreamed she lost us … both of us. That's why it was so important to see us tonight, why she couldn't be appeased at the house."

Charles gave Elsie's side a squeeze, offering her a little comfort. "Well, we will make sure she has a grand day in the morning, then, to wash away the bad dreams from her mind … and ours."

Just then, Sybbie shifted a little closer to Charles, her little feet pressing firmly to his pajama clad leg, and causing him to yelp in surprise.

"Whatever's the matter, Charlie?"

"You two may not be related by blood, but you're certainly family! Her little feet are just as frozen as yours, and she can't even wear my socks."

"You're right. We may not be related by blood, but she's certainly family … she's part of our family."

"Sweet dreams, my little frigid toed ones," Charles said with a chuckle.

"Love you," Sybbie mumbled in reply before tossing her arm over Charles and rolling onto her side in search of his warmth.

The last sound of the evening was the soft gasp from Elsie as she discovered what it's truly like to sleep with someone with cold feet and a belly full of cocoa.

 **A/N:** Written in response to the Chelsie Prompt on Tumblr. This week, the challenge was hot chocolate/hot cocoa. Hope you enjoyed this little story. Yes, I know it's highly unlikely that Sybbie would stay overnight with the Carsons, but hey, it's fanfic and AU's happen. lol


	14. Speechless

**Speechless:**

She had struggled for over a week, wondering when and how to break the news to him. Her mind was so full with information, ideas, images, hopes, fears … all of them invading her waking thoughts and deepest sleep. It had taken all her willpower that first day, trying to keep all of her emotions in check. Never before had she needed and craved his warm arms, his soothing voice, his tender kisses. The moment she saw him, she nearly revealed her news, as if it was no more important than announcing that their tea was ready. But, the drive home had given her time enough to make at least one decision and to strengthen her resolve to wait … at least for now. She would try to hold off until the moment was just right before breaking the news to him. He deserved that much. They both did.

As they snuggled together on the sofa that night, his sweet lips caressed her neck, his nimble fingers slipped up and down her bare arms, and his arms encased her in his love until she had asked him to take her to bed. He happily obliged, always ready and willing to do anything she asked. She had given herself to him that night, as she had on so many other occasions, welcoming him into her arms, giving and receiving boundless love. But there was one little piece of her heart that remained hidden from him, one little secret that nestled between them and known only to her. Not for long, though.

Elsie turned onto her side and snuggled against him. Her fingertips traced his collarbones, his broad chest, his rounded belly. He sighed contentedly in his sleep, his face relaxed, and his mind utterly at peace. Hers, on the other hand, was a whirlwind of activity. Whenever she thought of her little secret, her heart would beat a little faster and the tiny swarm of butterflies that had invaded her stomach earlier that day would return in full force. Her secret would only keep so long, he deserved to know, and she longed to share it with him.

For the next few days, Elsie spent her free time making lists, exploring ideas, daydreaming, and nurturing her secret. And then, one afternoon while running an errand at their local shopping center, an idea came to her. It was so perfect, so completely precious, that she couldn't wait to get back to her office to make inquiries, formulate her plans, and set everything into motion.

Charles and Elsie had always enjoyed surprising each other, never letting the romance and adventure fade from their marriage. Unexpected weekends away, romantic dinners in a nearby city, small gifts for no reason at all, love notes tucked inside a pocket or left on a pillow, sometimes written in the steam of their bathroom mirror … countless ways they loved and cherished each other … these precious moments always brought joy and happiness into their lives and today was no different.

When Charles woke that morning, it was to find a little paper heart on Elsie's pillow, her beautiful handwriting relaying a simple message.

 _Good morning and happy birthday, my love. I'm working on a special surprise for you so no need to rush from bed. I'll be back before you know it._

 _All my love,_

 _Elsie xoxo_

As if on cue, as soon as Charles finished the note, the door to their bedroom began to open slowly and Elsie peeked inside the room. Carrying a breakfast tray, she gave him a broad smile and walked over to the bed. Patiently, she waited until Charles was settled, his back against the headboard and pillows, before she placed the tray over his lap. Pancakes, strawberries with cream, warm syrup, a pot of tea, and a birthday card were placed carefully on the tray.

"Good thing your birthday fell on a Saturday this year," Elsie teased, leaning forward to place a leisurely kiss to his lips. "Otherwise, it would have been tea and toast, maybe an egg if you were lucky," she said, her stomach giving a little lurch at the very thought of eggs this early in the morning.

He chuckled and patted the space next to him on the bed, a silent invitation for her to join him for the breakfast she had cooked. "And just so you know, I would have gladly given up breakfast for a few minutes to cuddle with you before the start of the day … any day, my beautiful lass."

She kissed his cheek and rested her head on his shoulder. "You are such a charmer, though you know that's not necessary. In case you don't remember, you've already wedded and bedded me. And if memory serves me correctly, we're bound until death us do part," she said, slipping her arm around his waist and giving him a tight squeeze.

"Oh, no! You're not getting rid of me that easily. Death may part us for a brief time but I will never, ever leave your side. I plan on spending all of this life and the next with you," he said softly, his voice growing a little rough at the very thought of some far off future when they would be forced to part ways. He reached up and cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over her lips before he captured them with his for a soft kiss.

"So, birthday boy, have you thought of what you'd like to do today? I haven't really made any plans so the day is yours."

He plucked a strawberry from the bowl and fed it to Elsie before taking one for himself and leaning back over for a strawberry kiss. "I'd like to spend the day right here with you. We can go out later for lunch or an early dinner, maybe catch a movie or a walk in the park."

"You're sure you don't want to phone a few friends and invite them out for a birthday dinner? I know it's short notice, but I'm sure they'd make an effort if we asked."

He shook his head. "Low key and with my beautiful wife by my side, that's how I want to spend this day." He took a bite of the fluffy pancakes and hummed in satisfaction before offering Elsie a taste, which she gratefully accepted. For several moments, they sat in silence, enjoying the birthday breakfast that Elsie had made for Charles. In truth, she was thankful that he had wanted to spend the day at home and doing very little.

"Does this mean I have to wait until tonight to give you your birthday present," she asked, licking a bit of cream from her lips, knowing full well how seductive it looked but unable to help herself.

"I was hoping you wouldn't make me wait," he said, placing the tray on the floor beside the bed and turning to scoop Elsie into his arms. "I can open the card later, but for now, would it be terribly rude of me to ask for my gift? I am, after all, the birthday boy and it is MY special day," he announced with an impressive waggle of his eyebrows.

Elsie laughed and shook her head at her adorable husband. "You are terrible, Mr. Carson, just terrible! Did it ever occur to you that, perhaps, _that_ wasn't in my plans for today?" She bit her bottom lip in an effort to stifle a smirk as he looked down into her face with absolute surprise.

"Well, I suppose … we could always … I shouldn't have assumed … "

"You silly man! I'm teasing you, sweetheart, though I would like to give you your present before we get too carried away. I've waited so very long to give you this special surprise, and I was afraid I wouldn't be able to keep this secret until today."

He raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Hmm, I'm intrigued. In that case, I'd like my present now, please, Mrs. Carson. There will be time for everything else later … assuming you are agreeable, of course," he added, in case she thought he was being demanding or presumptuous.

"Let's see what you think of your surprise, first," she said, suddenly feeling more nervous than she had in days. She kissed him sweetly on the lips before slipping from bed and going into her closet in search of the little box which contained his gift.

When she returned to the bed, she kneeled beside him, presenting him with a little brown box. There was a simple bow tied on the top, the box and the bow giving nothing away as to the contents within. Charles accepted the gift, the excitement clear in his eyes as he looked from the box to Elsie's face and back to the box that was gently cradled in his hands.

"This looks interesting," he said with a wink. "I can't imagine what might be inside. Any hints?"

She shook her head and grinned, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering madly. "You'll never guess. I can only hope you'll love it a fraction as much as I do already. I think it's the most wonderful gift, though I'm a bit biased in that respect. So, open it and then you can tell me what you think." She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and waited anxiously.

Slowly, much too slowly for her liking, Charles untied the little red and white striped ribbon. He had always taken his time opening presents, not one to rush into anything, but this time it was driving her nearly mad. She clasped her hands together in her lap and watched his face, wanting to memorize the exact moment realization dawned upon him.

Gently, he lifted the lid. White tissue paper shielded the present from his view. "Hmm, maybe I ought to wait until later," he suddenly said, sensing her excitement and wanting to tease her a little. "If this is my only gift of the day, it would be a shame to open it so early."

"Charles Edward Carson, if you don't open this package this instant, there will be no more _gifts_ … for at least a week. It's been hard enough keeping this one from you this long. Please, don't torment me," she pleaded.

Elsie had never been this anxious over a gift or his teasing so he was very much intrigued by her reaction. "Only teasing, love. I had no intentions of waiting any longer. You know I don't need gifts today or any other day. Your love is my greatest gift." He reached out and took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips for a quick kiss before turning his attention back to the box in his lap. "Right then … let's see what's hidden beneath this wrapping tissue, shall we?"

For the rest of her life, Elsie would never forget the look on Charles's face as he peeled back the paper and peeked inside the little brown box. Instantly, she dissolved into tears as she watched the reality of the gift break across Charles's face, disbelief at first then an overwhelming excitement that rendered him speechless. When his gaze finally met hers, tears of happiness and sheer elation were pooling in his deep brown eyes, clouding everything else but the look on his wife's face.

"I bought them online," she said softly, her voice shaking just a little. "As soon as I knew, I thought it would be the best gift I could give you today. Or, at least I had hoped it would be. The booties … I don't know how to knit and there wasn't time to learn," she said almost apologetically.

With shaking hands, Charles reached into the box and removed a dainty pair of white baby booties and a little slip of paper that was attached to them. Silently, he read the words on the paper. Once he regained his ability to speak, he read them aloud for Elsie, knowing she already knew what was printed there but needing to say it all the same.

"Please hang onto my first pair of booties. I will need them in February," he said, reading the words on the paper, his voice soft and containing all the wonder he felt in his heart. "Truly, Elsie? I … I can't believe it," he said, both booties fitting easily into the palm of his hand as tears streamed freely down his cheeks.

She nodded her head and moved closer to him, taking his free hand and placing it on her stomach. "I found out last week. I've wanted to tell you so many times and was certain you'd work it out for yourself before today. No wine, definitely no eggs, incredibly tired during the day, and wanting you all the time … it was all there."

"We've waited so long, love. I still can't quite believe it," he said, gently pulling her into his arms and kissing her soundly on the lips then peppering her face with dozens of kisses as his laughter filled the room. Love and tears flowed freely between them as they reveled in the happiness of the news. Their little family was going to grow by one little heartbeat in a few months, something they had both longed and prayed for, though never quite believing it would happen.

As they curled up together in bed, his large hand firmly rested on her stomach, nice and warm, and his lips pressed tender kisses to her temple. "I know what I want to do today," he suddenly announced. She turned her head and looked up at him.

"What is that, sweetheart? The doctor assured me that I'm perfectly healthy. As long as you're not suggesting we go skydiving, to an amusement park, or drink ourselves silly, I'm game for anything."

He wrapped his arms around her a little tighter. "I want to spend the entire day planning for this little miracle. Baby names, nursery ideas, baby announcements for our friends … we're going to be parents, Elsie. A Da and a Mam! I want to spend the entire day in this bed with you, celebrating and planning for our little ones future. We can go out somewhere nice tonight for dinner, a double celebration."

"I'd love that very much, though I hope you know I have other gifts for you today, too," she said with a wink, though they're not nearly as special as this one." She covered his hand on her stomach with hers, her fingertips dancing across the back of it. "I bought them before I knew about this little surprise, though we'll have to enjoy one of them while it still fits me," she giggled.

"We'll make good use of it now, and after February," he assured her. "I plan on taking excellent care of you and this little one, sweetheart. This is going to be the start of the best years of my life." He leaned forward and captured her lips with his, rendering them both speechless for quite some time that day.

The following February, Charles and Elsie were graced with a beautiful baby girl. With eyes like her mother, dark hair like her father, the cutest wee nose, and pink little lips, she entered this life and brought with her an infinite amount of happiness to the Carson household. Once again, both parents were rendered speechless as tears of happiness freely flowed down their cheeks. Their little family was now complete and new adventures awaited.

 **A/N:** A special thank you to several wonderful friends who believe in and encourage me when I often doubt myself. I owe heartfelt thanks to you wonderful ladies … and to everyone who has taken the time to read this little prompt. Your words of encouragement and support mean the world to me. HUGS! If you're interested in seeing what the baby booties look like, hope over to my tumblr (Chelsie Carson) for a peek.


	15. Flowers

**Flowers:**

 **December 1, 2016**

Charles slowly opened his eyes and turned his head to see the clock on his side of the bed. He moved slowly and gently, hoping not to wake Elsie, her head pillowed on his bare chest and her arm draped securely over his stomach. Her warmth and softness tempted him to close his eyes, burrow deeper beneath the blankets, and hug her a little tighter to his body, but he had to resist, just this once.

Looking out of their large bedroom windows, Charles could see that it was still dark outside and the large snowflakes lazily floating towards the ground just outside their home did nothing to inspire him to want to move from his warm bed and beautiful wife. However, he had waited almost six months for this day and nothing was going to deter him. After all, if he was quick enough and quiet enough, he could slip out of the room, attend to the business at hand, and then slide back into their bed for a little nap before Elsie woke for the day. With any luck, he could convince her to spend a leisurely morning with him, doing nothing but cuddling and watching the snow falling from the comfort of their bed.

And that was precisely what he managed to do. Now, the harder part would be keeping his secret from her until their anniversary … a mere five months … five long, torturous months to have to keep this one secret from Elsie Hughes Carson, the woman who seemed to know everything.

 **May 22, 2017**

Charles woke long before Elsie ever began to stir. The light breeze blowing through the windows caused the sheer curtains to float, giving them a life of their very own. He smiled as he suddenly remembered the day, a surge of pride bubbling in his chest at having been able to contain his secret for so long. This would certainly go down as one of his greatest achievements. Gently, he rolled onto his side while still managing to keep Elsie close in his arms.

He watched her sleeping for several long moments. She was always beautiful but there was something softer, precious, and angelic in her face when she slept. With a reverent thought, he brushed his thumb across her cheek and watched as a sleepy smile began to break across her lips.

"Good morning, love," he whispered softly, careful not to startle her this early with his deep and sometimes booming voice.

"Mmm," she hummed, snuggling deeper into his warmth. "Every morning is a good one with you," she said with a raspy voice. "What time is it?"

"A little early for starting the day. I'm sorry if I woke you," he said before kissing the tip of her nose, her lips, and then her forehead.

"S'alright." She pressed a kiss to his chest and gave his waist a little squeeze. "You're not thinking of getting up, are you?" She wasn't quite ready to leave their bed or his arms and she hoped he could be convinced to stay.

"Not just yet, but I do have a surprise for you, sweetheart. It will keep, though," he said with a smile creeping into his voice. He watched as she registered his words, her eyes suddenly wide and sparkling, her full attention now focused on his face. "Ah, you're awake now, I see. How lovely," he teased.

She smacked his chest then pinched his bottom, earning her a yelp of surprise as his hips bucked at the unexpected pinch. "You said something about a surprise. Care to enlighten me, Mr. Carson, now that you've managed to wake me so early?"

"You can go back to sleep. The secret will keep until you're good and ready to get up from our bed, Mrs. Carson. I'll just go downstairs and see about breakfast while the lady of the manor has a lie in, shall I?"

"You shall not!" Her voice was sharp but it was clear to both of them that she was teasing, playing right along with his little game. "I wouldn't dream of letting you leave this nice, comfortable bed or your warm and waiting wife, shoving you down the stairs and into the kitchen this early. Why don't you just settle back and cuddle with me for a bit … share with me your thoughts and secrets," she purred, her hand running up and down his chest, nails lightly scratching his skin and causing him to squirm under her expert touch.

Charles stifled a groan at the back of his throat before leaning down to kiss Elsie passionately. His lips captured hers as he nibbled and teased until she returned his groan with a happy moan of her own. When he finally ended the kiss, he bumped his nose against hers and grinned.

"I love you so very much, Elsie," he whispered into her hair as he held her close.

"I love you, too, Charlie. I can't believe our anniversary is tomorrow. Twenty-five wonderful years being Mrs. Carson. How did I ever get so lucky?"

Charles chuckled and placed his finger beneath her chin, tilting her head back. "You've got it all wrong, darling. I'm the lucky one. Always have been where you were concerned." He kissed her sweetly and brushed her hair back over her shoulder. "Which is why I have an anniversary surprise for you."

"Hmm, I do believe I vaguely remember you casually mentioning a surprise this morning." Her laughter filled their bedroom and his shook the bed.

"I can't actually believe I've been able to keep this a secret from you. I've been on pins and needles since December, worried that you'd discover me at any point along the way."

"Charles Carson, what have you been up to? And more to the point, how on earth did you manage to keep it a secret? Surely, Beryl doesn't know or she'd have spilled the beans by now!"

"That was my first thought, so I'm happy to say that … for better or worse … your husband has arranged everything without any assistance. So, if it all goes to hell in a handcart …"

She placed her finger over his mouth to cease his sentence. "It won't because you never do anything by halves." She removed her finger and kissed him quickly. "How long do I have to wait before I get my surprise? Mind you, you're going to have to wait until tomorrow for mine."

"Let's go cook some breakfast, and I shall reveal all. We are on a flexible schedule, but we do have a bit of a drive ahead of us and reservations for dinner this evening."

Elsie sat up in bed, letting the sheet fall around her waist, slightly chilled from the morning air on her bare skin but not caring. "A drive? Reservations? Charlie, what have you done?"

He leaned over and kissed her cheek then slid out of bed, grabbing his dressing gown from the foot of their bed. "Answers over coffee, eggs, and toast."

As they made their way downstairs, Charles allowed Elsie to go first, knowing what was waiting for her. When she crossed through the living room and into the dining room on her way to the kitchen, she stopped in her tracks, a gasp falling from her lips. Placed in the center of their dining room table was a large bouquet of flowers in the most vibrant colors. Purples, blues, yellows, pinks, reds, and whites all blended together to create a stunning arrangement in a simple wicker basket. It was as if an English garden has somehow managed to find its way into their home.

Elsie walked closer to the arrangement, still speechless from her discovery, and gently touched the flowers, leaning in to breathe in their heady scent. It was then that she noticed the rest of the table. Charles has laid two place settings for breakfast using their finest china and silverware. His warm hands on her hips brought her fully back to her senses and she turned in his arms.

"You've done all of this for me? Charlie, it's beautiful, but when did you ever find the time, and where did you get the flowers?"

He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. "I hid the flowers in the garage when I came home last night. That little trip to get the ice cream was a ruse so I could pick up the flower arrangement. And I got up in the middle of the night to bring them inside, to set the table, and to arrange things for our breakfast." He brought his hand to her cheek and ran his thumb over her cheekbone to wipe away a stray tear. "Hey, no tears, love. This is a happy day."

She nodded her head and cupped his cheeks in her hands. "And these, my love, are happy tears. You've managed to surprise and spoil me, and it's not even our anniversary yet."

He took her hands in his and lightly kissed her palms, his eyes never leaving hers as he did so. Then, he wrapped his arm around her and guided her into the kitchen where he set about making their breakfast as they discussed the variety of flowers in the bouquet, the colors she loved the most, and their hopes of planning and planting a little garden of their own.

"Now that we're both officially retired, we can start making plans," she said, popping a slice of orange into her mouth, her tongue darting out to catch the droplets of juice on her bottom lip. She giggled as Charles moaned, pausing his diligent stirring of their scrambled eggs to watch her. "Careful with the eggs, Charlie. I'd hate for them to burn."

"Tease!"

"You're one to talk, Mr. Carson … waking a girl up this early in the morning with promises of surprises, secrets, adventures, and breakfast."

He plated the eggs and toast and nodded towards the bowl of fruit, silently asking her to bring it along with her to the dining room table. After helping her into her seat and gently placing her napkin in her lap, Charles settled down at his place and tucked into breakfast, making idle conversation until Elsie couldn't take the suspense any longer.

"Out with it, Charlie. I think I've been patient long enough. Frankly, I'm surprised you've lasted this long," she said, sliding her hand over his on the table and giving it a squeeze.

"To be honest, so am I," he laughed, bringing her hand to his lips for a brief kiss before rising from his seat. He was gone only for a moment and returned with a small envelope which he promptly placed in her hand. "For you, love. Happy anniversary."

She looked up into his eyes and carefully opened the flap on the envelope. Inside, she found several small pieces of paper, each one identical and each one sealed with a beautiful flower sticker. "Does it matter which one I open first?"

"Ah, it does. I'm glad you asked." He pushed back her plate and placed the papers in front of her. "Open left to right." He pulled his chair over to hers, not wanting to miss a single emotion as it played out on her face.

She gave him a smile and opened the first folded bit of paper.

 _ **Twenty-five years of putting up with this old curmudgeon deserves something special. Four nights at the Four Seasons in the Garden Suite, complete with our own private terrace.**_

Elsie gasped as she read the words for a second, then a third, time. "Charles! This must have cost a fortune! Four nights at the Four Seasons … and in a suite!"

"Our investments have done well, and we deserve to have a nice place to stay in London." He tapped his finger on the second envelope. "Go on. Let's see what you make of this one."

With shaking hands, Elsie reached out for the second envelope. Her heart was racing as she unfolded the paper and looked down at Charles's neat handwriting.

 _ **Pack that lovely black and silver dress. I'll pack my tuxedo. Together, we'll celebrate our marriage at The Foyer at Claridge's. Our reservations are for 8pm.**_

They had often joked about spending an outrageous fortune on some elaborate meal, though they'd never actually done it. They had dined at some of the most famous restaurants but never at Claridge's. "Goodness, Charles! When you set out to woo a lass, you don't hold back, do you, love?"

"Nothing is too good for you, Elsie. And we're not just celebrating our anniversary. We're marking the end of our working day and setting out on our retirement years. That deserves a special treat, too. I hope you aren't upset with me for planning all of this without consulting you first."

"Heavens, no! I am overwhelmed and excited but certainly not upset!" She picked up the last bit of paper and looked directly into Charles's eyes. "A weekend in London at a four star hotel, dinner at one of the best restaurants in town … whatever could this one be?"

"It's not an audience with Her Majesty, if that's what you're angling for."

"Not this year. Maybe you could arrange that for our thirty year anniversary," she said with a laugh and a wink.

"Yes! I'll send off an email to her office as soon as we return from our trip. That should give her plenty of time to clear her calendar," he deadpanned, which earned him a kiss and a shake of Elsie's head.

 _ **I promised you a garden, and a garden you shall have. To help us get started, we will spend two full days at the Chelsea Flower Show, reveling in this heady scents of the enormous flower displays and being inspired by the creative arrangements.**_

Elsie wiped the tears from her eyes and threw her arms around Charles's neck, peppering his face with kiss and words of love and adoration. "I do not deserve you! This … all of it … it's perfect!"

"Perfect, just like you, Elsie. These flowers are just the start. I want us to plant a proper garden, have a little bench or gazebo out in the back so we can sit and admire all of our hard work. I want to sit back, sip a glass of wine with you, and watch our flowers bloom. I want to give it all to you, love."

She cupped his cheek in her hand and drew his head down for a long and proper kiss. "I already have it all, Charlie. You've given me everything I've ever needed or wanted. I have you!"

It was his turn to wipe away the tears from his eye. Not for the first time in his life, Charles sent up a word of thanks for Elsie and her unwavering love for him. With a quick kiss to her cheek then one to the back of each of her hands, Charles stood and pulled her into his arms. "We'd best get packing. We have an exciting few days ahead of us."

"Happy anniversary, Charlie."

"And many more to come, my bride."

 **A/N:** Thanks so much for reading. I'd love it if you'd drop me a note to tell me how I did. The Chesie fandom always rocks!

Tickets for the Chelsea Flower Show non-RHS members usually go on sale on our around December 1 and spaces are limited. In 2017, the show will run 23 to 27 May. The "black and silver" dress Charles asked Elsie to wear is based on her BAFTA DA tribute dress. Stunning, imho! And lastly, if you haven't already, check out the Garden Suite and Terrace at the Four Seasons. Wow! Charles really outdid himself!


	16. Picnic

**Picnic**

A loud boom of thunder followed by a brilliant streak of lightning woke Elsie from a dreamless sleep. She was content to be wrapped up in Charlie's warm arms, being held securely and lovingly throughout the night. She turned over and snuggled deeper into his embrace, not surprised by another deafening rumble and flash of bright light that lit up the room from the outside. Without thinking, she sighed unhappily, a small puff of air tickling Charles's neck and causing him to stir.

"Alright, love?" His voice was gruff from sleep, though there was love laced through every syllable. Instinctively, he tightened his arms around her, drawing her closer.

"Fine," she said, smoothing her hand across his chest. "Storming outside today, and I had hoped for prettier weather." She dropped a kiss to his cheek and settled back into his side. "Nothing to be done about it, though. Go back to sleep," she said encouragingly. It was still early, and there was no reason for either of them to start their day just yet.

When they did finally pull themselves from their comfortable bed and down the stairs, Elsie bustled about in the kitchen making a simple breakfast of toast, porridge, and coffee. "Do you want honey or jam on your toast this morning?" she called out to her husband, only to be startled by his presence directly behind her.

"No need to shout, love!" He smiled and kissed her cheek. "Honey would be a nice change. I'll get it." He reached above her head and into the cabinets, pulling the small jar from their cupboard. "We will need to get another jar soon. Maybe when we go to the home farm next we can pick up another and maybe some of that strawberry jam you love so much."

"Yes, well, we will have to wait until it stops raining, and who knows how long that will be." Her words were a bit bitter, and she walked passed Charles and into their small dining area, taking the plate of toast and the pot of coffee with her.

Sensing something was wrong, and it would be better to get to the bottom of it sooner rather than later, Charles followed in her wake. He walked up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist, easing the plate of toast from her hand and placing it in the center of the table. "Care to tell me what's eating at you today, Mrs. Carson? It's not like you to be this grumpy. That's my job," he said, hoping to coax a smile from her lips.

She turned in his arms and hugged him. "I'm sorry. You don't deserve my attitude today. I'm being silly, that's all."

"If something has upset you, especially if it's something I've done, let's talk about it before you get any more worked up than you already are." He kissed the tip of her nose and leaned down a little so he could stare directly into her blue eyes.

"You'll think me silly." When his gaze didn't waiver and his arms around her only tightened, holding her more securely, she ventured on. "I didn't know it was going to be storming and raining today," she answered, as if that was all the clarification needed for her husband to fully understand the situation.

"I see." In truth, he didn't see at all, and he hoped she would explain further. "Shall I make a few calls and see if I can order us better weather for the afternoon?" He tickled her side until she was squirming in his arms and begging for mercy.

"I wanted to surprise you with a picnic today. That's why I'm so irritable. I had no idea it was supposed to be nasty outside, and I've been looking forward to this all week. I went into town yesterday, while you were at the abbey, and picked up a few things to take with us. I suppose we'll simply have them for our lunch or supper now. They'll likely go bad before the rain stops and the ground dries up enough for an outing."

He kissed the top of her head and hugged her. "The sentiment is lovely, and I'm sure the luncheon we share will be just as delicious at the table as it would have been on a blanket down by the lake or somewhere else. Less ants to worry about, too," he said, laughing lightly at his own joke. "Let's not allow the rain to dampen our spirits, hmm?"

She sighed in defeat. "You're right. Might as well focus on the housework that needs doing and leave the romance and frivolity to the younger crowd."

For some reason, hearing those words tumbling from the lips of his beautiful wife shattered his heart. Did she really believe that romance and frivolity were only for the young? Was she growing bored with their life together, their comfortable routines, and other aspects of their marriage? She hadn't said anything but perhaps the impromptu lunch date was her way of cleverly getting him there in the end without having to actually give life to her words.

"Why don't we focus on our nice breakfast and then, afterwards, you can go upstairs and take a long soak in the tub? I'll clear away the dishes and tidy the sitting room. Take a book and enjoy the relaxing morning. It won't make up for your earlier plans, but it will be a nice little break from the routine of it all."

Elsie smiled. "I'm not bored, you know. I don't want you think that at all. I merely wanted to do something nice for you, a little something out of the ordinary for us."

"I realize that, and there will be other opportunities to surprise me, Mrs. Carson. Now, let's eat before the porridge gets cold and that pot in the kitchen with the residue gets too sticky and I have to really scrub to get it clean." He leaned down and kissed her sweetly on the lips before moving to pull out her chair for her, settling down afterwards and tucking into their meal.

While Elsie was upstairs taking a long soak in the tub, at her husbands' insistence, Charles worked diligently to plan a little surprise for his bride. She had been unusually upset by the sudden change in her plans, and it unnerved him to see her so downcast. Hoping to improve her mood despite the steady and heavy rains outside, he decided to plan a little surprise of his own.

Once everything was in place downstairs, he dashed up to their bedroom and quickly changed back into his pyjamas. Normally, he wouldn't be caught dead in them after climbing out of bed, unless he was ill, but these were special circumstances. He picked up the nightdress Elsie had been wearing and brought it to his nose, smiling as her familiar scent caressed his senses. "Elsie, love, when you're done in the tub, I want you to put your nightdress on for me, please."

"What in heavens name for, Charlie? It's not time for bed! And what if someone decides to visit us? I don't want to be caught in my gown."

"Elsie Carson, it's raining so hard, even the ducks don't want to be out in this mess. Besides, I've planned a little something and the appropriate attire, milady, is your evening wear … your bedtime evening wear. Don't feel the need to rush. I just thought I'd mention it while you were still bathing. I'll meet you downstairs."

He took a few steps away from the bathroom door and waited, grinning happily to himself as he heard the water beginning to slosh about, a true indication that she was emerging from her bath and would join him sooner rather than later. Not wanting to be caught out, he dashed quietly back to their sitting room, snatched up the book he'd been reading the night before, and tried to look casual. A few moments later, he heard her familiar steps on the same set of stairs.

"I feel silly in this in the middle of the day," she announced as she entered their sitting room. Her mouth dropped as he stood from the sofa and faced her, wearing his pyjamas and extending his hand to her.

"You look beautiful," he said softly as she took his offered hand and he brought hers to his lips for a tender kiss. "You look so soft and warm," he continued, drawing her into his arms until he was able to kiss her lips properly in a heated exchange. Sooner than either of them truly wished, he pulled back and began nuzzling the side of her neck as his fingertips began to glide up and down her back, varying the pressure and causing her to moan in delight.

"Charlie," she sighed. "Wha-what's all this … about?" She was struggling to form a complete sentence, her body crumbling under his skilled touch.

"Romance and frivolity," he whispered into her ear. "Never let it be said that a little rainstorm dampened our desire or determination." He stepped aside and moved to stand behind her so she could fully appreciate his efforts.

In the far corner of the room, near the largest window, Charles had spread a blanket on the floor. Two plates were already laid out, a bottle of wine was uncorked and breathing, and various other foods he'd found in their cupboard and refrigerator were spread out. He'd taken the pillows from their various chairs and sofa and placed them near the blanket as well, along with the afghan from their bedroom.

"Care to join me for a rainy day picnic, my love?"

Tears filled her eyes as she memorized every single detail. It was as if he'd read her mind when she'd been planning this days before. The only difference was the setting. She'd envisioned lazing about by the lake, and instead, they were going to snuggle by the window and enjoy the raging storm outside.

"It's even better than I imagined. Oh, Charlie, it's perfect."

"Housework and chores can wait until tomorrow. I do believe a luncheon has been planned in your honor. Afterwards, I thought I might read some poetry to you. Then, if we're feeling tired, we can simply recline and take a wee nap, or merely cuddle."

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Napping was not in my picnic plans. Perhaps we might compromise on that one detail," she purred, pressing her entire body to his.

He cleared his throat and felt the tips of his ears beginning to burn. "I always said you planned the best and most impressive parties. Shall we discuss this compromise over a bottle of wine and some sandwiches?" He slipped his arm around her waist and guided her over to their little feast, immensely proud of himself for putting that smile back on her face and restoring happiness to their little love nest on such a gloomy day.

Later, as the two relaxed among the pillows and afghan, Elsie kissed Charles's bare chest. "Thank you for this. It's been a perfect outing without ever leaving home. I love you so very much."

"I think I have found a new love and appreciation for rainy day picnics with my best girl." He leaned over and kissed her hard on the lips, leaving her with no doubts about his love and ability to still romance the woman of his dreams.

 **A/N:** Thought I would poke my head above ground and try to join in with the Unofficial Downton Abbey Series 8 challenge on Tumblr. I would really appreciate it, if you have the time and are so inclined, if you'd leave a comment. I hope to be able to post several of these in the upcoming weeks, but we'll see. Thanks for reading! ^_^


	17. Dancing

**Dancing**

Elsie ladled more chicken soup into the bowl and carefully placed it on the tray along with the neatly folded napkin, spoon, and glass of water. Her mam had always said that the best way to cure a cold was fresh chicken soup and lots of water. Unfortunately, she wasn't sure how much more soup Charlie would consent to eat, though his only alternative, if he continued to grumble, would be a trip to Dr. Clarkson.

She could hear his coughing all the way into the kitchen and it broke her heart. He'd been miserable for the last two days, though she thought he seemed to be improving just a wee bit. At the very least, he was sleeping more soundly at night and waking only once or twice for water. And he hadn't had a fever in those two days, which was an even bigger relief. Ever since his brush with the Spanish flu, she was always a little more cautious, a little more concerned, whenever either of them fell ill.

She brushed back a stray strand of hair from her forehead and straightened her posture before picking up the tray and taking it into their sitting room. She didn't want him to see how tired she felt.

"Here you are, Charlie. Lunch is served, milord." She smiled as he rewarded her teasing with sharply raised eyebrows and that flustered look he reserved solely for her. "Bet you'll never guess what we're having."

"I'd love to tell you I smelled it from the kitchen, but that would be a lie," he quipped as he shifted on the sofa. Elsie carefully placed the tray across his legs and was about to step back when he took her hand in his and gave it a light kiss. "Thank you, love."

She smiled and caressed his cheek and forehead. "You're welcome. Now, let me dash back to the kitchen and get my lunch, and we'll have a nice chat. You'll have to tell me about the book you're reading. Once you're finished, I might give it a go."

Over lunch, Charles and Elsie discussed a great many things. Their easy banter included books, details for a trip they were planning, new curtains for the bedroom, and the county fair.

"That reminds me. I need to call the house and tell Mrs. Patmore that I won't be going with her this evening. I completely forgot about that. It slipped my mind!"

Charles placed his tray on the small table in front of the sofa and pulled the afghan a little tighter around his chest. "Why would you need to cancel? You two have been looking forward to going for weeks, ever since the first posters were put up at the post office."

Elsie wiped her mouth with her napkin and started to clear away their dishes. "That was before my husband fell ill, and priorities changed." She said the words in such a matter of fact manner that it took Charles by surprise. Unless she knew something he didn't, and he seriously doubted she did, he only had a cold and there was no reason for her to abandon her original plans. When she returned and settled down on the other end of the sofa, he stretched out his hand and took hers, giving it a squeeze.

"I'm fine, Elsie. There's no need to fuss. It's a little cold, nothing more. You should go with Mrs. Patmore and have a good time. You can tell me all about it when you get back this evening. Besides, you've been cooped up in this house with me for days. The change of scenery and a more pleasant face might be a welcomed change."

She scooted closer to him and lifted his arm until it was wrapped around her shoulders. "First of all, Mr. Carson, there are much worse things than being cooped up in this house with you. In fact, I do believe I've enjoyed having you all to myself, though I wish you felt better. And secondly, there are plenty of women in this village alone, probably London, too, if I really stopped to think about it that would relish the opportunity to look at your pleasant face. Fortunately for me, that's my job and one that I have no desire to relinquish."

"They do say that love is blind, Mrs. Carson." He pressed his lips to her temple then quickly pulled away. "Do you really think you should be this close to me? I'd hate for you to catch what I have."

Elsie rolled her eyes and smiled. "I sleep in the same bed with you every night. If I'm going to catch it, there's nothing to be done about it. You'll just have to promise to love me in sickness and in health." She leaned against his side and put her index finger to her chin, pretending to think very hard. "Oh wait! You've already promised, so that's settled then. I can catch your cold and you'll have to make me soup." She leaned up and captured his lips with hers, kissing him sweetly for a prolonged moment.

Charles smiled and shook his head. "You'd better pray you don't fall ill. My mam didn't teach me how to make soup and Mrs. Patmore would never let us live it down if she found out exactly how you caught my cold."

"What's so mysterious about it? You're my husband. We wouldn't be the first couple to share illnesses. Parents even catch things from their bairns from time to time."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, but this is Mrs. Patmore. She'll accuse us of … well, of showing affection," he said, clearing his throat, "and you'll giggle in that adorable way that you do, and she'll know the truth. She's starting calling our cottage the little love nest again. Then, I will hear no end of teasing from her at church for a month of Sundays." The look he gave her dared her to contradict his predictions.

"Well, I don't care what she, or anyone else, thinks. I've nursed you through illnesses before, and this is no exception. And if she dares to taunt you, I'll take care of her. I've seen the way Mr. Mason looks at her. There's no denying there's something brewing between those two."

"Don't go meddling, Elsie. They'll work it out for themselves." And then he had a thought dart through his mind. "That's another reason you should go with her this evening. It wouldn't do for her to go unaccompanied to the fair and meet up with Mr. Mason. It wouldn't look proper. If she went with you, and you happened to see him, then there would be no questions raised on the matter."

"You really are the last of a dying breed, my love. Need I remind you that I went, very much unaccompanied, to a fair to meet Joe Burns? Where was the scandal that rocked the house and caused the village gossips to wag their chins?"

"I nearly lost you," he said, the mood suddenly shifting from playfulness to something more serious. "And the ladies in the village know that you're above reproach. There have never been any questions about that or your character."

Elsie suddenly felt very clingy, like she wanted to wrap Charles in the tightest, warmest embrace and never let him go. "Charlie, even back then, I knew I could never leave you. Joe never stood a chance. It just took us a little longer to get here, but here we are, and we're fortunate."

"I am still the happiest and luckiest of men, Elsie. I never want you to forget that." He cupped her cheek in his large hand and brushed away a happy tear. "Please don't cry, love."

She leaned her head into his palm and closed her eyes, enjoying his touch and the love she felt from him. "Please, don't make me go tonight. I'd rather stay here with you, sick or not. Besides, there will be other fairs that come to town."

Charles thought about insisting that she go along, even if only for an hour or two. But his Scottish lass was stubborn, and he could see in her eyes that her mind was already made up. No amount of persuasion would change it. "You'd best call Mrs. Patmore, then. Maybe Mrs. Baxter or Daisy will go with her."

Her happiness was infectious, and Charles found himself laughing as she peppered his face in kisses. "I'll be right back, and then we can decide what to do with the rest of the day." She gave him one last kiss then went to make the call to her friend, hoping she would be sympathetic. At the very least, she'd offer to pay for tea in the village next week to make up for their cancelled adventure.

When Elsie returned, Charles was sitting with his head back and his eyes closed. At first, she thought he might have been napping until he reached out his hand and patted the seat next to him. "How did she take the news?"

Elsie settled in beside him and leaned into his side. "Generally, very well. I told her I'd buy tea next Thursday, since it's her half day. By then, you should be completely well and tired of my nagging." She wrapped her arm around his stomach and gave him a gentle squeeze.

"Hmm, you don't nag me. You gently push me in the directions you want me to go," he teased. "Now, what do you have planned for the rest of my convalescence?"

Elsie laughed heartily. "I think, husband, we should take a nap, or at least stretch out on the bed. We'll be much more comfortable. I can come down a little later and get dinner started." He groaned at the thought of eating another bowl of soup. "Now, don't you start! I wasn't going to tell you this, but Mrs. Patmore is going to send Andrew over at six with a basket. All I'll need to do is heat up whatever she sends. You get a reprieve from soups and stews."

"Remind me to pay for your tea party next week," he joked. "It's the least I can do." He stood and offered her his hand, leading her upstairs to the bed where they collapsed for a cuddle. After several long moments in companionable silence, Charles finally spoke.

"What did you and Mr. Burns do at the fair, Elsie?" He knew he had no right to ask, but ever since that night, he'd dreamed up a thousand different scenarios and every one of them ending with the image of that little straw doll. Briefly, he wondered if he should ask the whereabouts of the fair prize, but he wasn't quite sure he wanted to know.

She closed her eyes and thought back to that evening, trying to recall important details that might interest Charles, leaving out others she thought might upset him for one reason or another. "Well, you know we had dinner at the Grantham Arms. Nothing special, as I recall. I think I had the chicken and he had the lamb dish. We talked about old times, his farm, my work … the usual topics, I suppose, when you haven't seen someone in years."

"I'm sure it was nice seeing you again after all those years." There was no hint of jealousy or bitterness in his voice. After all, Elsie had married him and turned down Joe Burns. That had to account for something. "After dinner, did you take a stroll through the stalls? You must have."

"We did, and I introduced him to a few of the friendlier people in the village. As you might imagine, we steered clear of the gossips like Mrs. Wigan. He bought us each a hot apple cider at Mr. Beech's little stand, and we sipped that while rambling through the rest of them." She paused, wondering if she should mention the doll and deciding there was no need to leave that bit out since he'd already seen it. "We stopped and he had a turn at the ring toss. That's where he won that little straw doll. After that, we said our goodbyes, and I walked home."

"I still can't believe he let you walk home all alone in the dark! I would never have allowed that, even if it was our first date."

"I wasn't in any danger. Besides, I knew the others were right behind me so I wasn't afraid."

"Be that as it may, it still wasn't right. If something had happened to you that night …"

"But it didn't so calm down! I made it back in one piece, as you well know."

Charles toyed with a strand of hair that had worked free from her loose bun. "You don't have to answer this, but I'm curious about one thing."

Before he could ask, Elsie offered the answer. "I gave the doll to Miss Sybbie during one of her first trips to my office. It had been tucked away in the back of a drawer since I turned down Joe's proposal, and when the little girl came into my office in tears, I remembered it. She still has it, I think. I'm surprised you haven't seen it in the nursery."

Charles made a mental note to stop by the nursery on his next visit to the abbey. He wasn't entirely sure why, but the fact that she'd not held on to the doll for sentimental reasons made him just that much happier. "I promise you I'll try to win you something at the next fair. I'm sorry I'm not able to take you to this one."

She stretched and kissed his cheek. "It's a date then, Mr. Carson. I'll put you in my calendar as soon as we get out of this bed." She couldn't help laughing at her own joke. "My, my, that sounded a little risqué. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Indeed," he said with a stifled yawn.

Elsie smoothed her hand over his chest and sides, lulling him into a restful sleep and dozing a bit herself. When she finally woke, she eased herself from his arms and went downstairs to tidy up a bit before Andrew arrived with their dinner.

Right on time, he knocked on the door just as Elsie finished lighting the fire in the stove. He dropped off the hamper and was quickly on his way, adding that he was walking Daisy and Mrs. Patmore to the fair as soon as he returned.

Elsie let her husband sleep until their supper was almost ready. She was sure he would be thrilled with the contents of this basket. Roast, potatoes, carrots, fresh bread, some cheese, and for dessert … his favorite … apple tart. She was just about to call him when she heard him stirring about. "Supper is almost ready, love," she called up the stairs.

"Coming down now," he shouted back, his voice sounding much stronger than it had earlier in the day.

During Charles's nap, he'd dreamed of taking Elsie to the fair, having her arm looped through his, being the proud husband that he always felt when she was near. Images of her laughing, leaning into his side, sipping mulled wine, and watching, in delight, as he won her the prettiest doll in the stall all formed one continuous dream. But the best part of it all had been the feeling of taking her into his arms in the village square and dancing with her, holding her close, letting the world know that theirs was not a marriage of convenience as some had rudely suggested before they were wed. And that was the image he clung to as he woke, the one he carried with him down the stairs and to dinner with his wife.

After a very filling meal and while Elsie was clearing away the dishes, Charles lit a few candles in the sitting room and stoked the fire. He listened with delight as Elsie hummed to herself, a little off key but that made it all the sweeter. When he was certain she was finished, he turned on the wireless and found a station which was playing some rather soothing music.

"Mmm, that's lovely," she said as she stepped into the room while removing the pins from her hair and shaking it loose. "I think I'll go up and change for the night."

"Actually, I was hoping you'd join me in a dance or two first. But, if you'd rather get comfortable, that's fine." He tried to keep the disappointment from his voice, but even he knew it had been a lost cause.

She walked over to him and slipped an arm around him. "My nightdress can wait. It's not every day I get the opportunity to dance with such a handsome and persuasive man."

With practiced ease, Charles slipped his arms loosely around her waist and drew her into his embrace and began to gently sway and guide her through the rhythms of the melody. He leaned close to her ear and whispered softly. "Close your eyes and try to imagine us at the fair, dancing slowly under the lights at the gazebo in the square." He paused, giving her a moment to focus on that scene. "We are surrounded by other couples, some older and others mere children by comparison, though none of them matter. You are the prettiest woman there. We are gliding through the paces as if we'd been dancing together for decades, each movement synchronized, fluid." He brushed his lips against the shell of her ear. "I'm sure the other men in the village are jealous but I pay them no mind because I know you only have eyes for me, and I see no other woman besides you."

"Charlie, I can see it all in my mind," she whispered softly, lightly scratching the nape of his neck with her nails. "As the dance ends, we stop moving in measured circles and stand close, arms still around each other. I know others are watching but I simply don't care. I want to stay right where I am … then and now … right where I belong."

He put only a small amount of space between them and rested his forehead on hers, tilting his head only slightly so he could kiss her lips ever so softly. She crinkled her nose, as if it tickled, and pulled his head back to hers, intent on giving him a proper kiss.

"I don't want you sick, remember?" Once again, he rested his forehead to hers and began to sway once more to the new tune coming from the wireless. Slowly, they moved in perfect unison, around their little sitting room as the candles and firelight began to fade. "I believe this is the point where I have to walk you home, my dear."

"Good thing for me, we're already home." She reluctantly stepped out of his arms and let her fingertips skim along his unshaven cheek. "Bank the fire, and I'll get the candles."

Obediently and swiftly, he did as she requested, then allowed her to lead him upstairs. Without another word passing between them, they changed into their nightclothes, switched off the lights, and slipped beneath their warm blankets.

"The next fair that comes to down, Elsie, I promise to take you, and we'll dance the night away, if that's what you'd like."

"Oh, I don't know. We can go early enough for some popcorn and made a drink, but I'd much rather spend my evening alone in the comforts of our little love nest. To me, this was much more enjoyable than the fair, though don't tell Mrs. Patmore I said that or she'll never let me live it down."

"Your secrets are safe with me, Mrs. Carson."

Just as they were drifting off to sleep, he heard it.

"Ah-choo!" followed by a frustrated groan.

"Sounds like someone has caught a nasty cold. I told you not to kiss the butler."

She swatted his chest. "Just don't tell my husband. He'll never let me live it down."

"A wise woman once told me … in sickness and in health. I can't wait to feed you endless bowls of chicken soup tomorrow."

She sighed before sneezing again. "At least we got to dance," she murmured softly before drifting off to sleep.

 **A/N** : Thank you all so very much for the reviews for the "Picnic" prompt. It's nice to know you're still reading and enjoying my Charles and Elsie stories. If you're so inclined, I'd love to hear what you think of "Dancing."


	18. Happiness

**Happiness**

"And you're sure you don't mind? I feel like I'm imposing." Mr. Branson stood in the Carson's cottage with his hat in his hand, nervously fiddling with the brim. He was speaking softly to Elsie so that his daughter, Sybbie, wouldn't overhear their conversation.

"Of course I don't mind and you're not imposing. I'd love to spend an afternoon with Miss Sybbie. I freely admit that I miss our little tea parties in my old sitting room, and it's lovely to think that she might miss them, too."

"And what about Mr. Carson? He won't mind? I'm sure he had things planned for this afternoon and this was not one of them. I should have asked sooner or put her off until another day when arrangements could be made."

Elsie reached out and patted his arm in a motherly sort of way. "Mr. Carson won't mind at all. Just look at those two. She's been here all of five minutes, and they're already engrossed in something by the window. No doubt, he's showing her his new bird feeder. By the time she leaves, she'll know all about the birds of England and you'll be buying her a feeder for the gardens at Downton," she said with laughter laced through her voice. "Besides, he has a meeting this afternoon in the village. He can spend the morning entertaining her, and I'll get my chance this afternoon."

They both stood still and watched Mr. Carson and Miss Sybbie chatting animatedly by the window, her little laughter and squeals of delight when a new bird arrived causing Carson to chuckle, too.

"Now, you'd best be off or you'll miss your train. She will be in fine hands, and we're honored she asked to spend the day with us. And, should anything arise, we'll simply cross that bridge when it arrives, though I don't think either of us has anything to worry about in that respect."

"You're much too good to us, Mrs. Carson. I am so grateful to you and Mr. Carson for taking such an interest in Sybbie. His Lordship and Her Ladyship are good with her … but it's not quite the same as having someone who loves you to introduce you to the simpler things in life, if you understand my meaning. She'll learn all about the rules of etiquette and social standing from them, but I want her to appreciate the simpler way of life, the one where titles and money don't matter as much as love and family."

"Aye, that I understand, Mr. Branson. Times spent with my Gran are some of my happiest childhood memories. I think that's one of the reasons I enjoy spending time with your lovely little girl. It gives me a chance to enjoy similar adventures but from another perspective."

The young man smiled and nodded, knowing that he couldn't ask for better surrogate grandparents for his daughter than the two people right before him. "Then, I suppose I'd best be off so you can start adding to those memories." He reached down and took her hand for a moment, giving it a brief squeeze in silent understanding and thanks. "Sybbie, come give me a kiss. I'm going to leave now."

Carson and Sybbie turned from window, the birds abandoned momentarily, and she ran to his side, wrapping her arms around his neck and giving him a big kiss to his cheek. "Bye, Da! Have a good day," she said, not sparing him another moment. She darted back across the room and took Carson's hand, leading him back to the window and firing off several questions in rapid succession.

"Well, that's me in my place," he said as he stood next to Elsie, a large grin on his face.

"Those two will entertain each other for the rest of the morning. It wouldn't surprise me if Mr. Carson decides to skip the meeting so he can stay here with us this afternoon. I'm sure Mrs. Wigan wouldn't appreciate that but neither Mr. Carson nor I care about her opinions. Besides, it's not every day we get this opportunity, especially now that we're retired. It was easier to have little stolen moments when we were at the house every day."

Knowing that his daughter couldn't be in better hands, Tom Branson took his leave, promising to be back as soon as possible and feeling his heart swell as he was encouraged not to rush through his plans for the day.

Once Mr. Branson left, Elsie slipped into the sitting room and stood in the doorway, listening intently to the entertaining conversation between her husband and the little girl who occupied a rather large part of his heart. It made her so incredibly happy to see her husband and the little girl so wrapped up in their conversation that neither of them realized they were being watched by loving eyes.

"But, why doesn't their mommy feed them? Don't they have mommies and da's to take care of them?" The girl rested her head on his shoulder, content to be held in his strong arms. Elsie, too, couldn't think of a happier or safer place than being wrapped up in Charles's embrace.

"They do, but these birds are all grown up now. They've been taught how to take care of themselves. One day, you'll be all grown up, too, and will have a home of your own. You'll make decisions on what you want to wear, what you want to eat, who you might want to visit … those sorts of things."

"Can I still come and visit you when I'm all grown up? I can bring some food for your birds, and we can feed them. Maybe I can buy you a peacock for your flower garden. I read about one yesterday in my book. They're really pretty and colorful, too. If you're really good, Father Christmas might bring you one, but you have to write him a letter and ask very nicely. That's what nanny says whenever I say I want something new."

Elsie burst into laughter and joined the two of them at the window. "I don't think Mr. Carson needs a peacock, Miss Sybbie. But," she said, leaning down and whispering loudly in the girl's ear, "maybe if you and I both asked Father Christmas to bring Mr. Carson a kitten, he might leave one under the tree. Then, you could come over and play with it from time to time."

"Ohhh, I love kittens, but not when they use their claws. That's not very nice."

"They don't mean to be rude," Mr. Carson added. "They just get very excited. That's why it's always good to use toys when playing with little kittens. They can attack the toy and not your little fingers." He tickled her side and held her tightly as she squirmed in his arms.

"Then, we'll ask for plenty of toys, too," the young girl announced with so much excitement that it was contagious. In her mind, she was already picturing the small kitten that would arrive on Christmas morning and possible names for it as well.

Charles looked at Elsie over the top of Sybbie's head and raised his impressive eyebrows. _You did that on purpose_ was the intended message being sent silently.

 _Perhaps, but look how happy you've made her … and me_ was the instant reply.

"Mr. Carson, I think we should go into the village and look at the toys in the store. It would help me to know what to ask for when I'm writing my letter. Do you think we could do that now? Then, when we get back, you could help me." Sybbie was so polite and sincere in her request that it was hard for the former butler to refuse.

"I don't see why not. I needed to go into the village anyway. I need to cancel an appointment, and we can kill two birds with one stone," he replied.

Sybbie's lip began to tremble and her brow creased with worry. "I don't want to go with you if you're killing sweet birds. Why would you do that?" She began to wiggle in his arms and reached out for Elsie to take her.

"No, no, lamb! He didn't mean it like that. It's just a silly expression. It's a way of saying that you're going to take care of two chores at the same time. The birds are the chores, you see?" Elsie said, running her hand over the girls' dark brown locks and down her back soothingly. "Mr. Carson would never kill an animal. I promise you that. Do you understand?"

She thought for a moment, rationalizing it in her mind before nodding her head. Suddenly, she leaned back into Carson's arms and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. "I'm glad you don't kill birds. Do you think we can get some sweets at the store?"

Elsie smiled, the gentle girl reminding her so much of her mother. "I have an idea. Why don't you two go into the village and run your errands? When you return, maybe Miss Sybbie will help me bake some biscuits. I have everything I need but if you pick up a bar of chocolate, we might could add a little of that into our dough. What do you think?"

"Chocolate biscuits? And I get to help? Please, Mr. Carson, can we go now so we can get back to help make biscuits?"

He kissed her temple and lowered her to the floor. "Let me get my hat, and we'll be off. You ladies go into the kitchen and make certain you have all the ingredients. Now you've got me craving chocolate biscuits, and I'd hate to learn we didn't have everything," he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

As soon as Charles and Sybbie returned from the village, the young girl ran into the house and wrapped her arms around Elsie's legs. "We brought two chocolate bars. Mr. Carson said we could use one in the biscuits and maybe nibble on the other one while we wait."

"Oh, he did, did he? And was Mr. Carson good while he was in the village? Did he get all of his errands accomplished?" Elsie put her hands on her hips, trying to look as serious as possible.

Sybbie reached up her arms silently asking Elsie to pick her up and hold her. When she was snuggled into Elsie's arms, she cupped both the older woman's cheeks in her tiny hands and giggled. "He was, though Mrs. Wigan wasn't very happy with us. She had gone to a lot of trouble for some meeting today. She said something about apple tarts and Bakewell's, but I didn't understand it. Mr. Carson didn't look happy either, but I don't think it had anything to do with the tarts."

Elsie looked up and just happened to see the massive eye roll Charles gave as the little girl prattled on and on about their trip to the village. He crossed the room and gave Elsie a kiss on the cheek causing Miss Sybbie to giggle and hide her laughter behind her hand. "Mrs. Wigan was not happy, though I'm sure the others at the meeting will be thrilled with her tea time treats. I'm afraid there will be no getting out of next month's meeting, unless my wife writes me a note excusing me for some noble reason."

"Depending on how good you are between now and then, that might be arranged. Then again, with your luck, she might simply postpone the meeting to a more convenient day for you."

"I don't think she liked it much that I was with Mr. Carson in the village," Sybbie added, crinkling her nose and thinking back to the exchange they had in the village with the postmistress.

Elsie turned back to the little girl in her arms. "Oh, and why is that, lamb?"

Sybbie took a deep breath and sighed dramatically. "She said I should be back at home in the nursery with the nanny and not …" she paused, trying very hard to remember the word the scary woman had used. "Not … in … con …"

"Inconveniencing," Charles supplied. He watched as Elsie's cheeks turned red and her eyes hardened quickly. Even while still in the village, Mrs. Wigan had awakened the famed Scottish dragon of Downton Abbey. He placed a soothing hand on the small of her back and began to rub small circles. "No need to start breathing fire. I let her know, in no uncertain terms, that Miss Sybbie and I were having a wonderful time together and we were on a mission for you, my dear. She was also reminded that the Crawleys and everyone in that household, are family and as such could never be an inconvenience."

"Well, she should be thankful she said those things to you and not to me," Elsie added. "And I hope she will stay well clear of me on Sunday."

"I don't think you'll have any problems with her on Sunday. She's scared of you, anyway." Charles couldn't help but tease his wife just a little. It was a longstanding joke between them two of them. Since Mrs. Wigan had been widowed, she had found countless ways to try to impress Mr. Carson, even after he began courting Elsie and their marriage had been celebrated. "I'm actually surprised she went so far as to get apple tarts for today's meeting. That was rather bold."

Elsie leaned into his side and grinned. "Bold but futile. I hope she enjoys all those tarts." She kissed Charles on the cheek then leaned in to kiss Sybbie on the cheek, too. "Now, unless I'm mistaken, you two were going to help me make a batch of chocolate biscuits … unless of course you had too many sweets on the way back from town."

"We only had two butterscotch pieces each and a stick of peppermint as we were running our errands," Sybbie offered, then quickly covered her mouth. "I wasn't supposed to tell," she offered quietly and looked up at Mr. Carson with wide eyes.

Charles and Elsie both laughed. "You didn't tell me, child. I knew the moment you came back from town that you'd had sweets. Your hands were a little sticky and your breath smelled of butterscotch. Mr. Carson smelled of peppermint," she said, giving her husband a wink. "And you did bring back a chocolate bar to share so I can't be too upset, though I get the first piece since you two have already snacked."

The rest of the afternoon was spent happily in the kitchen. The unlikely trio worked together to bake batch after batch of biscuits, eating at least one from each set to ensure their quality.

"No more for either of you," Elsie said as they each snagged a cookie from the third batch. "You'll both have tummy aches and won't want your supper. And I'll not be responsible for either of those things."

"But, who will eat them if we don't," Sybbie asked, trying to sound innocent as she gave a two-eyed wink to Mr. Carson, who, in turn, gave her a two-eyed wink back.

"You two will be the death of me! I'll wrap up a few for you to take with you, but you mustn't eat them until tomorrow. And, we'll wrap up a few for your Da, we'll keep some here for your partner in crime, and two each for Master George and Miss Marigold. Does that sound fair?"

Sybbie snuggled into Elsie's lap and rested her head on her chest. "Yes, except I won't have any to eat while George and Marigold eat in front of me. That's not very fair, is it, Mrs. Carson? You always say that we're supposed to share, and I'm sharing my biscuits but it's not very nice to make me watch them eat theirs in front of me."

Elsie hugged the child a little tighter so she couldn't see the wide grin on her face. "If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you were going to be a member of Parliament when you grow up. Alright, I'll pack an additional four!"

"Wow, four extras? You must really love me."

"I do love you very much but those extra two are for nanny. It wouldn't be nice for her to watch you three eating cookies and she gets none."

"You're so smart! I'm glad you think of everything and everybody."

Charles leaned over and gave Elsie a quick peck on the lips. "You really do, you know. You have the kindest heart of anyone I know."

"You two will not smooth talk your way into any more cookies, though I appreciate the sentiments. I love you both very much, too."

Once all the cookies were cooled and divided into their appropriate groups, Charles carried Sybbie into the living room and settled down with one of her favorite books. She was getting sleepy after such a busy day, so Elsie held her while Charles read to them in that soothing voice of his. He had barely made it halfway through the book when she nodded off to sleep in Elsie's arms. And that was how her Da found her when he returned to the Carson's cottage.

"They're just through here," Charles said, leading Branson through the house and into the sitting room. "She's had a rather big day, but overall, I think it was a very good one."

"She was no trouble, then?"

Charles turned to stare at him, reminding Branson of the days when Mr. Carson commanded the household with just a look. "No trouble at all. In fact, we have, both of us, enjoyed having her. She brings a certain happiness into our lives."

Branson watched as Elsie gently woke the child from her nap and helped her to sit up properly. "And you most certainly bring happiness to hers. I'm grateful to both of you for loving my daughter the way that you do."

"No thanks necessary, Mr. Branson. It' what families do."

 **A/N:** Thank you all for your continued support and love for my stories. You guys are the absolute best! ^_^


	19. Sand

**Sand**

Ever since their rainy day picnic and the heartfelt discussion they'd had while lying together under the afghan as the raindrops pelted the windowpanes, Charles had been toying with an idea. The harder he tried to push it from his mind, the more forceful it became, the clearer he could picture it all in his head. More than once, Elsie had caught him staring off into space, lost in concentration as he sorted through various details in his mind. He'd brushed aside her concerns, telling her he was thinking of some mundane village business, and that seemed to placate her. But, that excuse would only work once or twice before she would demand answers and offer to lend him her ear.

Fortunately for him, Mrs. Patmore had invited Elsie to the Abbey for tea, and Mrs. Baxter had asked that she stay for a bit to discuss the upcoming garden party. It would be the first one in decades that Elsie hadn't planned from start to finish, and nerves were running a little high, both upstairs and downstairs. As he kissed his wife goodbye with a lingering kiss to her lips, he promised her he would carefully watch the roast in the oven so their dinner wouldn't be ruined by the time she returned. And just as she was closing the door behind her, he called out one last reminder.

"If there are any leftover biscuits or tarts, tell Mrs. Patmore it's always kinder to share." Her laughter as she walked down the lane filled his head and his heart with happiness.

With his adoring wife out of the cottage, Charles felt free to indulge his thoughts, getting them out of his head and onto the paper in front of him. First, he made an extensive list of everything that would need to be purchased or secured, trying to think of everything well in advance. His next step was to settle on a date. It couldn't be before the garden party. Elsie would never forgive him if they missed it. And part of him was more than a little curious to see how differently it would be without his wife at the helm. Finally, he would need to make a few phone calls, though those would be the last things he'd need to worry about today. No sense in making arrangements when nothing was settled.

With his mind more at ease and his thoughts sorted neatly, he pulled their roast from the oven and ventured into the garden to do a bit of weeding. Elsie had commented on it the evening before, saying she needed to get it done before they took over her precious roses though she wasn't sure when she would find the time. He hoped to surprise her with his efforts and a few cut flowers for their table. He even managed to cut a pretty red rose for her pillow, smiling proudly to himself as he envisioned her face upon finding it at bedtime.

By the time Elsie returned home, her head pounding from the stress of the afternoon, she was utterly surprised, relieved, and grateful that Charles has taken it upon himself to complete their supper preparations and lay a perfect table.

He took in her appearance with bright eyes and a smile on his face which quickly faded as he saw the weariness in the slump of her shoulders and the creases of her brow. In a moment, he was by her side, helping her with her hat and coat, speaking in a soft tone and guiding her to their sofa. "Sit here and rest. I'll pour you a glass of wine, and then you can tell me all about it, love." He kissed her forehead and ran his hand over her hair before retreating to the kitchen for the promised wine and a Beecham's powder.

He returned to find her head resting against the back of the sofa and her eyes closed, her fingertips pressing harshly against her temples. "Drink this and take the powder," he suggested. He moved to stand behind her, giving her time to take the medicine before allowing his fingertips to begin their medicinal and loving treatment. "Looks like you had a rough afternoon, sweetheart. Would you like to talk about it?" he asked after several long and comfortable moments of silence between them.

She reached up and took his hand in hers, bringing his palm to her lips for a kiss, then pressed her cheek to it. "Oh Charlie, it was a mess, an absolute mess." She tugged on his hand until he took the hint and settled down beside her, gathering her into his arms and guiding her weary head to his chest. "Thomas thought he would take this opportunity to _improve_ upon years and years of tradition. He had changed everything from the order in which things are arranged to the timetables for everything. I spent most of the afternoon trying to correct his mistakes, guide Mrs. Baxter on her duties, and I never even really had a chance to visit with Mrs. Patmore. What's worse is that I am going to have to go back tomorrow and finish sorting out this mess. The only thing that saved me today was the dressing gong."

Charles gently stroked her hair and rubbed her shoulders until he felt her relax against him. "You leave Thomas to me, and you focus on helping Mrs. Baxter. I'll go back with you tomorrow and see to it that traditions are upheld. As the elder statesman at the helm of it all, at least according to His Lordship, I feel it's my duty to steer the course into calmer waters, especially if it helps put a pretty smile back on your face and thwarts a disaster in the making."

Elsie reached up and cupped his cheek before kissing him softly on the lips. "Downton Abbey does not deserve you, Mr. Carson. However, I will agree that they need you, not as much as I do, but still …" She kissed his cheek then shifted from his arms. "Now, I'm sure supper won't cook itself so let me get started. You must be starving."

He stood up with her and took her hand, guiding her to the table and directing her to sit. "You are in for a treat. While you were away, I was a busy husband. I managed to pull together our dinner as well as tending to your garden." He plucked a pink lily from the table arrangement and offered it to her. "This, my love, is from your very own garden. After we eat, let's slip outside to our swing with the leftover wine and enjoy the stars."

"That sounds like a perfect ending to a long day. Anything I can do to help you in the kitchen?"

He shook his head. "Just let me plate it, and then you can eat while you tell me more about this fiasco Thomas is planning."

And that's exactly what she did. Sharing her troubles with her husband seemed to greatly lighten the load she felt she was carrying on her chest and on her shoulders. The wine, her third glass of the night, had completely alleviated her headache, though it may have been a combination of the headache powder, the company, and the merlot.

As they cuddled on the swing in their garden, Charles wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to his side, pressing a kiss to her temple and inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo. "I will have a word with Thomas tomorrow about what happened today. Current housekeeper or not, he should show you more respect and rely on your guidance to steer him in the right direction."

She patted his leg then gave his thigh a loving squeeze. "Be gentle with him, Charlie. I don't think he did it maliciously. He simply hadn't considered all the details. After all, he's not as organized and well-versed as the previous butler." She shifted a little and pressed a lingering kiss to his neck. "As much as I'm enjoying this, do you think we could go upstairs? I'm suddenly feeling rather tired."

"Of course, love," he said with a smile, suddenly remembering the rose on her pillow and knowing it would put a smile on her face. "You head on up. I'll rinse the glasses and be up in a moment." He took her empty glass and his and went to the kitchen, remembering to bring a small vase of water for her flower so it would last through to the morning.

Throughout the following day, both Charles and Elsie worked in tandem to get the garden party back on course. After a stern talking to, Thomas had sought a private word with Elsie to apologize, first to her and then Mrs. Baxter, for his behavior. Charles stood in the doorway and nodded proudly.

"It's a big man that can admit the error of his ways, Thomas. It shows you are improving in your work. And one last word of advice, if I may." He waited for a nod of consent from the new butler. "The housekeeper of a house this size can be your best friend or your worst enemy. Seeing as how you are already friends with Mrs. Baxter, it would not do to disrupt that friendship in the vain attempt to make your mark on the festivities. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I would, Mr. Carson. There will be other opportunities for me to showcase my abilities. I know that now."

"Very well. Now, if you'll permit me, I'd like to use your phone. I have a few calls I need to place, and it's necessary for Mrs. Carson to be occupied so she doesn't overhear. Can I count on you to see that I'm not disturbed? It would ruin a very special surprise."

"Take as long as you need. I'll go and speak with Mrs. Baxter and Mrs. Carson about the changes they need me to make. I'm sure we should also confer with Mrs. Patmore, so that will give you at least an extra half hour," he nervously joked.

"Indeed," the retired butler replied. "As I said, Mr. Barrow, you're learning." The use of the former footman's new title was not lost on either man in the room, both silently acknowledging the compliment for what it was worth.

With the pantry door firmly closed and confident that his wife was truly occupied, Charles picked up the receiver and placed the first of several calls. By the time he emerged into the hallway, hearing his wife's laughter ringing through the corridors, Charles was most pleased with his progress and the little surprise he had successfully orchestrated.

"Mrs. Patmore and Mr. Barrow have invited us to stay for supper. I accepted for us. I hope you don't mind," Elsie said, giving her husband's arm a reassuring squeeze, one that said she would happily defer to his wishes. She understood how trying it would be for her husband, having to watch another man do his former job, having to correct mistakes which could have been seriously troublesome for everyone.

"That's very kind. It would be very nice to stay for supper and to catch up with everyone. Sundays after church simply don't allow for such luxuries."

By the time the Carsons returned to their home, the hour was late but they had both enjoyed the deviation from their routines. It had been wonderful to feel needed again, as if their opinions and thoughts still mattered, to know that they could still be of some use to those still working at Downton Abbey.

Charles rested his head against Elsie's chest, thankful that at times she enjoyed holding him in her arms as they fell asleep. "Do you think it would be possible for us to have a quiet day here tomorrow?" His lips brushed against her collarbone, a whisper of a kiss but one that she felt as if it had been filled with all the passions of youth.

She carded her fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp and feeling him shiver. "I think we've earned it, Charlie. Did you have something particular in mind?"

"Ah, that would be telling, love. You'll have to wait and see."

"You're such a tease." She laughed and took hold of his hand that was resting on her belly, lacing their fingers together.

His deep chuckle rumbled from his body to hers. "And here I was thinking I was your curmudgeon."

"My husband is a man of many mysteries … and I am enjoying discovering each and every one of them. Now, stop talking to me so I can get my beauty sleep."

"As you command, Mrs. Hughes."

"That's Carson, if you don't mind. Now, cheeky lad, either stop talking or give me a reason to stay awake."

Before she had even finished her sentence, Charles shifted in her arms, capturing her lips with his in a fierce kiss while his hands left no doubts in her mind as to which option he was choosing.

Before she was even awake, Charles had pulled on his dressing gown and made his way downstairs. He's not a completely useless husband. He did, after all, manage to teach Lady Mary how to scramble eggs, and he's fairly confident in his ability to work Elsie's blasted toaster these days. They've agreed not to fiddle with the dial, a happy medium between her lightly tanned toast and his dark brown. Coffee for him and a pot of tea for her, milk in first, and the table has been set. He looked up as she descended the stairs, positively glowing and looking refreshed and happy.

"Morning, my love. Did you sleep well?" He opened his arms and ran his hands up and down her back, reveling in the feel of her satin nightgown, a wedding gift from a new husband to his new bride, beneath his fingertips.

"Mmm," she hummed into his chest. "I slept better than I have in days. My loving husband knows just what I need." She slipped onto her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his, softer than a feather's touch, letting their breaths mingle, reliving their evenings' events in a single moment.

When she pulled back, Charles slowly opened his eyes and stared down into the dark blue ones of his temptress of a wife. "If I hadn't made you breakfast, I'd take you back upstairs." He patted her bottom and grinned. "But I did, so let's not let my efforts go to waste."

"Can't blame a wife for trying." She returned a pat to his bottom then slipped out of his arms and into her chair at the table, taking a long sip of her perfectly prepared tea. As she sat the cup back on its saucer, her eyes locked onto something peculiar on their table, in the spot where the flowers had been.

"Charlie, what's this doing on the table?" She reached out and lightly touched the lid to the small, decorative jar.

Inside the little glass container were several scoops of sand, beach sand to be exact, along with two seashells, two small petals from a rose, and a small clipping of heather. Elsie smiled as she remembered the day they had created the jar of memories. It had been their last evening in Scarborough, at sunset. She had made a foolish wish that they could stay in this peaceful resort and enjoy the luxury of having time to themselves. Feeling much the same way, Charles had crafted the idea to bring a bit of Scarborough home with them.

He'd taken her hand and quickly darted into the little general store near the beachfront. The owner was quite surprised to learn that the only thing they required was a bit of ribbon and a small jar used in canning. Happy to make the sale, he wished them on their way, his curiosity bubbling over.

Charles had led her back to the beach and together, they'd added sand into the little container, making sure to leave enough room for the additional items they'd agreed upon. They each chose a small shell from the shore and added it before it was sealed. As Elsie tied the ribbon around the top near the lid, Charles reached out to still her hand. "Not too tightly, love. When we get home, why don't we add a flower or two from your bouquet? It will be a true reminder of the happiest days of our lives."

"Only if we add a petal from your boutonniere. One petal from my bouquet and one from your flower. Agreed?" And she sealed the agreement with a kiss.

Charles brought her out of her daydream with a small kiss to the side of her neck as he placed her plate of eggs and toast in front of her. "So, you found my surprise?"

"It would appear so. Care to explain?" She placed the jar on the table between their plates, her hand reaching out to take his.

"I thought it was time to take my wife on a little holiday, and what happier place than Scarborough. It will, of course, be after this garden party next week, but that will give you plenty of time to pack and purchase anything you might need." He reached into the seat of the empty chair and presented Elsie with a small box with a lid. "Oh, and there's one more thing." He pushed the box over to her and watched with great anticipation as she removed the lid. "I thought we could add another sand jar to our shelf."

She opened the box and a broad smile graced her face and tears of happiness welled in her eyes. Inside and wrapped in white tissue was a delicate vase with a cork for a stopper. Also nestled within was a good length of royal blue ribbon and a handwritten note.

 _Looking forward to making many more sand jars with you, my darling._

 _All my love._

 _Your devoted and loving husband,_

 _Charlie_

 **A/N:** Thank you all for your love, support, reblogs, and reviews. I apologize for not responding to you personally from last week's prompt. Life managed to sneak up on me! HUGS!


	20. Harmony

**Harmony**

Normally, Elsie enjoyed the quiet, calming walk from the village to her little cottage that she shared with her husband. She would stop to admire the field filled with flowers, listen to the birds happily singing in the trees, watch as the lambs frolicked in the meadow, or simply let her mind wander back to her childhood or something Charles said or done that put a smile on her face.

Today, however, was not one of those relaxing, peaceful days. The more steps she took towards home, the more agitated she became. Part of her hoped that Charles was at the cottage and another part of her wished for more time to compose her thoughts before seeing him. She wasn't sure which outcome would be better for him. Either way, she could safely say that her trip into the village had been less than desirable and pleasant. He had, inadvertently, seen to that.

As she entered the lane that led to their home, she stopped and took several deep breaths. She realized, as she turned her face towards the cloudless sky, that she had been arguing with him all the way home, though all of it had taken place in her mind. And yet, despite mentally ranting at him and organizing her thoughts, she found she was even angrier than before. However, she knew she couldn't avoid him, and it was growing late. Better to get on with it and let the cards fall as they may.

She opened the door to the cottage and closed it, rather loudly even by her own estimations. It felt good to make a little noise, and part of her hoped it jolted him from a nap. She took off her hat and coat, hanging them along with her handbag by the door. She would need to start their supper soon, but she was in no mood to eat. If it were up to her, she would make some tea and toast and call it a day. She wanted nothing more than to take a hot bath, slip into a fresh nightgown, and lose herself, and her thoughts, in her book. But, that was not to be.

"Elsie, are you quite well?" Charles entered the hallway and looked at his wife, concern written all over his face. One look at his puffy eyes and she knew she had roused him from a little snooze, no doubt a rather long one by the look on his face.

"Why wouldn't I be?" She did nothing to hide her clipped tone and the steely edge of her jawline.

"For starters, you slammed the door so hard that it rattled the windows. Secondly, you scared me half to death. I was asleep and wasn't sure what was happening. And lastly, I know that voice. It means you're angry, and I'm to blame … somehow."

"Well, my perceptive husband, would you care to venture a guess as to why I might be so upset at the moment?"

Charles thought very carefully about his next words. His mind raced with all sorts of possibilities, each more unlikely than the next by his estimation. "Something or someone in the village has upset you, though I don't have any inkling why or how." He reached out his hand to her, hoping to guide her into their sitting room for a chat.

When she refused to take his hand, his face fell and his brows creased with worry. Somehow, _he_ had managed to upset his wife, though he had been alone and at home for the entire day.

She took a deep breath and released it in a puff of angry air. "When were you going to tell me?"

He was more confused than ever which only irritated Elsie more and more the longer he hesitated with an answer. "Tell you what, love?"

"Ah, I see. Very well. Keep your secrets, though you should know they're not very private anymore. Your village friends have seen to that!" Without another word, she crossed the room, brushing passed him so quickly he had no chance to question her further, and stomped up the stairs. At the top of the landing, she opened the bedroom door and for several long and tense moments, Charles heard a series of slammed doors, angry footsteps, running water, and the wardrobe door banging closed.

Charles slumped down at the kitchen table and ran his hand through his hair. How on earth had his day turned upside down so quickly? He'd kissed her goodbye, very sweetly and hugged her. He'd told her he would miss her, offered to go into the village with her, but she had insisted he take the time for himself. She'd even encouraged him to catch up on his reading or to take a nap. The night before, they had discussed cooking dinner so the fact that a meal wasn't prepared shouldn't have been a surprise, either. He couldn't think of a single chore she had asked him to do that he hadn't seen to himself or arranged for one of the younger lads to stop by later in the week. And, he hadn't ordered anything to be delivered to the post … "Damn!" It suddenly occurred to him what might have happened. He cringed, hoping that wasn't the case but deep down in his heart, he knew that was the only explanation.

Quickly weighing his options, he decided that the best course of action would be to allow her time to calm down in the bath. He would wait, rather nervously, until he heard the water draining from the tub then pour them each a glass of wine. With any luck, she would be in a more agreeable mood and he could explain himself. The best case scenario, he reasoned, would be that he could restore peace and harmony between them. The worst would be if she stayed angry, and he had to sleep in the guest room. He prayed it wouldn't go that far. They'd never gone to bed angry at one another before … at least not since they were married.

While Charles tried to keep his nerves calm downstairs, Elsie tried to ease hers in a hot bath. She had poured a very liberal amount of lavender into the steamy water, hoping the combination of the two would soothe her frayed nerves. As she slipped into the water and rested her head against the edge, she closed her eyes and replayed the scene from only a few moments ago.

The look on her husband's face had been enough to convince Elsie that he truly had no idea what he'd done wrong. No doubt, he would have a grand explanation for it all, though that did not excuse his actions. They were supposed to be equals in all things, partners for life, and yet this afternoon she had felt anything but either of those. He needed to understand that, just as she needed a reason for his behavior. She dipped a flannel into the bath water and pressed it to her face, praying for patience, guidance, and peace.

By the time her water had grown cold, she was feeling much better. She was still hurt and a little angry but nothing like before. She was also hungry, and there would be no getting around that either. She'd lost all track of time, but she felt fairly certain that supper should have been ages ago, even if it was only a sandwich and a piece of fruit.

He heard the water and it began to drain down the pipes and his ears perked up, listening intently for anything to indicate Elsie's current mood. Her steps from the bathroom to the bedroom were light, the normal padding of her bare feet across the floorboards a good sign, in his opinion. He heard the bedroom door close softly and the first step creak as she began her descent.

He was on his feet quickly, pouring them each a glass of wine and lighting a candle on the kitchen table. Charles had taken the liberty of making them each a ham sandwich, peeled and cored an apple, and placed a few of her favorite biscuits on a plate nearby. With a little trepidation, he stood by the table and waited.

When she reached the bottom step and crossed into their cozy dining area, she stopped in her tracks. As upset as she had been with him, she could not deny how sweet he was being about it all. She had come to realize that she had caught him completely by surprise, had been incredibly rude upon entering their home, and still he had done something nice for her. She took a few steps towards him and reached out her hand in silent truce.

He immediately took her outstretched hand and brought it to his lips, gently kissing the back of it and nuzzling it with his cheek. "Shall we sit and talk over dinner? It's not much but the tremor in my hand started again."

She took his hand in hers and began to gently rub it, soothing away the shakes until they both felt confident that he could hold his wine glass without spilling a drop. "I appreciate you going to so much trouble, especially after the horrible way I treated you when I arrived home."

He guided her to her usual place, and he waited until she was settled before taking his seat. An uncomfortable atmosphere shrouded them in silence until Charles finally broached the subject. He took a sip of his wine to wet his throat before he began. "I think I know why you're so upset with me."

She chewed and swallowed the bite of ham sandwich and dabbed the corner of her mouth before replying. "You tell me what you think it is that happened, and we'll start there. Fair?"

"More than fair, love." He sat back in his chair and looked her directly in the eyes. "I resigned as the chairman of the village council. I neglected to tell you about it or consult with you beforehand. You, no doubt, heard all about it from the town gossip, Mrs. Wigan, because she was there when I spoke to the council. And, most importantly, I hurt you." He covered her hand with his and gave it a tender squeeze. "That about sum it up?"

With her free hand, she toyed with the stem of her wine glass, watching as the cabernet swirled in the glass. "Bullseye, my perceptive husband. Now, would you care to explain yourself and your actions? It was so humiliating to know that half the village knew of your actions but your own wife was clueless. I pretended to know all about it when in truth that was all a lie. We are meant to be partners, Charlie, in everything. Or so I thought. Big decisions and little ones, alike. We always discussed them together. Why not this time?"

"I didn't want you to talk me out of it, for starters. I'd been thinking about it since that last ordeal with the gazebo renovations in the square. I'm not cut out for the politics of village life. I prefer to stay here and tend to our little garden, take walks with you, visit our friends … live my life as I please. It felt so much like a chore instead of something to enjoy being a part of. Surely, you can understand that. Isn't it why you declined the invitation to be on the flower committee at church?"

She felt as if the wind had been knocked from her body. "Do you really think I wouldn't listen to you and support you in your decision? I might challenge you a bit, have you consider the pros and cons of each action, but in the end, the decision was always yours to make. I've always supported you. I've always been on your side."

"I know that, and honestly, I knew you'd stand beside me once I told you of my decision. I had planned to do that tonight, as a matter of fact. I had a very good reason for it all. I never considered that you'd hear about it from someone else, though in hindsight I can see I was clearly wrong. I apologize for that and for making you feel I was hiding things from you. I'd never do that, Elsie. I hope you realize that."

"I do, though earlier today, I couldn't say that with confidence. We should both be grateful it's a good walk back from the village. I worked off quite a bit of steam before walking through that front door."

"Thank the blessed Lord above for small mercies granted," he quipped with a smile, causing her to laugh a little, too. He felt the tension starting to dissipate in the room and he heaved a great sigh of relief.

"You said … for starters. What other reasons did you have for not mentioning this to your wife?" She nibbled on a slice of apple and listened very carefully to what he was saying. She wanted to clearly understand his reasons, discuss things until they both agreed, and then move on from this unfortunate series of events.

Charles finished his glass of wine and poured them each another as he calmly explained his position. "It was supposed to be a surprise. I had truly intended on telling you this evening. It was one of the reasons I suggested we cook dinner together. I thought it might be a nice change, something new. I want to spend more time with you, Elsie. The more we are together, here in our cottage, the more I want to be near you. Sounds like a lovesick young lad, but there we have it. All those village meetings and commitments … they were taking time away from you and our life together. Call me selfish, but I'd rather spend what days we have remaining together, not separated by more duties and at the whims of others."

For the first time all afternoon, Elsie felt truly chastised. She had been so upset to learn her husband had made a big decision without discussing it with her that she'd never considered that there had been no need. When it came to their time together, they both viewed it as a precious gift, one that they cherished and protected. She always checked with him before joining Mrs. Patmore for tea, not out of any need for his blessing or approval, but out of consideration for something he may have planned for them. By the same token, he consulted with her every single time he visited the abbey or even met up with some of the other men in the village to discuss the cricket team. It was something they had always done. It was simply a courtesy.

With no warning, Elsie stood from her place at the table and slipped onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and nestling her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Charlie. I never stopped to consider why you resigned, only that you did. And, frankly, I'm glad you did. The days were always so much longer when you were away, though I never said anything because I thought you were enjoying yourself."

He tightened his arms around her waist and shifted so that he could press a kiss to her temple. "Then, why, love, were you so upset when you came home? It seems to me that if we had discussed it, we would have been of one mind regarding my resignation. My reasons were noble and honest, and we both agree that we'll be happier this way."

She had that very same question float through her mind when she was in the bath. And her answer was a simple one. "I was irritated that I was the last person to know. You're my husband, and I was more than a little jealous that your admirer, Mrs. Wigan, knew something about you that I didn't. I pretended to know everything she was saying, as if we had been having lengthy discussions on the matter for weeks. In truth, I was completely in the dark."

Charles placed his finger beneath her chin and encouraged her to look at him, eye to eye. "And did the town gossip tell you what I told the committee when I handed in my notice?" She shook her head and he lightly kissed the tip of her nose. "I told them that while I appreciated the faith and truth they put in me for such a high place on the committee, my heart was elsewhere. I told them I felt I was of little use to them when I wasn't giving them my full attention because my desire was to be at home, with my wife, and spending our retirement years together. I do believe I shocked a few of them. That was not the Charles Carson they remembered, the one who was stiff-lipped, duty bound, and unbendable."

"Then they don't know you like I do," she said softly, brushing the curl away from his forehead and running her fingers through his messy hair. "Can you forgive me for the way I behaved earlier?"

"That depends. Will you forgive me for keeping the secret from you and for not talking to you first?"

"Kiss me now and I'll give you my answer later," she whispered softly into his ear.

As soon as his lips touched hers, they both felt their worlds shift back into complete agreement. Harmony had, once again, been restored in the Carson love nest, along with a deeper understanding, a renewed commitment to each other, and happier days ahead … with no meetings and schedules to keep them apart.

 **A/N:** Posting a little early this week as I'm headed out of town on vacation. Hope you'll enjoy this chapter, and if you're so inclined, I'd love to hear your thoughts. To my guest reviewers, BIG HUGS to you as I cannot reply to you directly. Until next week … Keep Calm and Chelsie On!


	21. Morning

**Morning**

He loved this time of day. He'd never declare it to be his favorite, but there was something magical, something special in the first hours of a new day. He still had trouble adjusting to life in retirement. Years of routine, waking before an alarm clock or a knock on his door, were still ingrained in his mind. Only now, in the comfort of the cottage he shared with his wife, he could afford the luxury of waking slowly, lounging in their comfortable bed, and actually rising when his stomach dictated the need for breakfast or Elsie woke and grew restless.

This particular morning was like most of the others. It wasn't a special occasion and there was nothing on their agenda to require such an early morning wake up call. But, as he rolled onto his side and opened his eyes, he fell in love with his wife all over again, losing all desire to sleep.

The night before had ended with a sweet kiss, a long cuddle, and softly spoken words mingled with deep yawns born from exhaustion. They had retired early, both with the intent and desire to enjoy their marriage bed. Whispered words along exposed skin, lingering touches and gliding fingertips, deep kisses filled with warmth and passion all combined to create a relaxed and heady feeling to the night, but it was not to last. A day spent cleaning the house from top to bottom had rendered them both more tired than they initially realized. Instead, they agreed there would be other nights, other opportunities, to express their love, though both were determined to sleep skin to skin for the closeness and intimacy it afforded.

Now, as Charles lay quietly in the early morning hours, he smiled as he watched his wife sleeping. At some point during the night, she had turned in her peaceful slumber and rolled onto her stomach. Her bare back was now exposed to his loving eyes as the sheet pooled at the dip in her waist just at her hips. Without thinking, he closed the distance between them and placed a light kiss to her shoulder then along her spine. His warm fingertips danced along her side until she started to stir beneath him.

He smiled to himself as she hummed an approval of his attentions, though he could tell by her rhythmic breaths that she was still asleep. He wondered if she was dreaming of him, recalling memories of their lovemaking or imagining new adventures they would take together. He made a mental note to ask her, perhaps over breakfast.

Sunlight began to spill into their cozy bedroom through the small opening of the curtains. It wouldn't be long before she began to stir. Shifting closer, he brushed the back of his hand against her body, from the middle of her shoulders and downward, slipping beneath the sheet and lightly caressing her bottom before returning the journey upwards once more.

She shifted, sensing the loss of his skilled touch, seeking it out in her waking moments. She moved to her side, her back still turned to him though now they were once again pressed skin to skin. He scooted closer, gently slipping his hand over her waist until his palm lay heavy on her belly. He nuzzled the spot below her ear that brought her so much joy, his lips and tongue coaxing a moan from her.

Feeling rather emboldened by her responses to his touches he slipped his hand up to her breasts. His fingertips ghosted over her hardened nipples, toying with them, bringing her some small amount of pleasure as she began to wake. He relished these small liberties she had granted him … to be able to feel her luxuriously soft skin, knowing that she had pledged herself to him and no other, and always safe in the knowledge that he would respect and honor her wants and desires. Lowering his lips, he brushed the shell of her ear until she turned her face to his, capturing his lips in a searing kiss.

As she began to wake, she realized her dream was turning into reality. Her husband was so very loving and attentive, waking her … body, mind, and soul … in ways she'd never imagined when she was simply Mrs. Hughes of Downton Abbey. Now, as she turned fully and wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him deeper into her embrace and a passionate kiss, Elsie Carson woke fully from her slumber.

When they parted from their first morning kiss, he nuzzled her nose with hers and smiled down into her still sleepy face.

"Mmmm, good morning, Charlie. I do hope you intend to finish what you started this lovely day."

His deep laughter rumbled through his body and into hers, causing her to shiver in a most delicious way. "It is a very good morning, love." He drew her into his embrace and placed a soft kiss to her forehead, temple, and finally one on her lips. "I have every intention of fulling all of my wife's dreams. But first, it might be helpful if she told me what, exactly, she was dreaming of."

And for the next few moments, Elsie and Charlie snuggled together under the thin sheets, speaking in hushed tones of desires and needs, wants and passions. Together, they had heralded in a new day, one that was certain reinforce their pet name for their lovely cottage … the love nest.

 **A/N:** A huge thank you to everyone who has been following these little snippets in time and taking a moment to leave a review. They are so very much appreciated and motivating! To my guest reviewers, you guys rock. I wish I could tell you that in person! I apologize for not personally replying to last week's reviews. I was out of town on vacation and just returned! HUGS!


	22. Daydreaming

**Daydreaming**

He sits on the swing in their garden, surrounded by the sweet scent of the blooming flowers his darling Elsie has planted. It's warm so his shirt sleeves are rolled up to the forearm which allows the gentle breeze to caress and cool his skin. He is wearing dark trousers, his comfortable socks and shoes, and a white shirt without the braces. He is at home and comfort is more important than appearances for once. After all, he is retired and can afford to live a little.

He closes his eyes and tilts back his head to allow the sun to kiss his face. These are simple pleasures that he has grown to enjoy since his days are now his own. He is no longer bound by the ringing of bells and the whims of others. As long as Elsie is happy and wants for nothing, Charles Carson is pleased.

Normally, on an afternoon such as this, his wife would join him in this relaxing pastime, but today she has other plans. It has taken over a year of marriage to convince her that everything Charles has is now hers to share, including the money he has saved and what she has contributed to their household accounts. So, he is most pleased when she tells him over breakfast that she would like to go into town to choose a few new garments, underthings and nightgowns in particular. He offers to go with her but she refuses saying he would be more comfortable at home than in a shop filled with ladies from the village and unmentionables. With this assessment, he cannot and will not argue. Mrs. Carson is always right.

He does not hear the front door of their cottage open or his wife calling out his name. He has always prided himself on being able to detect her footfall from everyone else in the large house where they once served. It is the same boast she can make as well. Years of working together, looking out for each other, falling in love … a couple in love without admitting it for so many years in almost every sense of the word … affords them these little insights.

Suddenly, she is standing in the garden which is shielded from the lane leading up to the cottage. Thick trees with full branches line the side of the house. Other trees, rosebushes, various blooming and evergreen plants also surround the back of their property. With everything in bloom, it is their little garden paradise hidden away from prying eyes, though there are no neighbors to look and their house is the last on the lane.

The grass is cool on her bare feet, her toes wiggling happily in the plush greenery. She has rid herself of the restrictive stockings and shoes, choosing comfort over sensibility. How many times had her mother told her never to walk barefoot outside for fear of stepping on something or being bitten by something else? Today, she does not heed the advice. She does not think it necessary, especially in the safety of her own little patch of land.

Charles opens his eyes when he senses her, and his breath catches. She is a vision of beauty and grace, a goddess standing in mortal form. His lips are suddenly dry as he drinks in everything about her from the tips of her bare toes to the top of her head. His heart pounds heavily in his chest, and she has his absolute and full attention.

Elsie is standing there in one of her new purchases. It is white, nothing but lace and satin. She has never owned something so fine, so extravagant, so … revealing. Her shoulders are almost completely bare except for the shiny satin straps that are almost non-existent. Her creamy complexion is exposed to the warmth of the sun's rays and her lover's eyes. She can see by the darkening of his eyes that she has his interests piqued.

Her full breasts are adorned in the soft material of the nightgown. She knows her husband can easily see her peaks and their lovely rosy color though she is not ashamed. In fact, the very thought excites her. He has always appreciated her bosom, lavishes each breast with attention, both from his hands and lips, whenever they make love. Sometimes, when she is doing mundane chores such as washing dishes or dusting, he will wrap his arms around her from behind, cup and massage her breasts until they are both trembling with excitement and anticipation. Now, encased in the softest and thinnest material, she is teasing him, taunting him, enticing him as only she can.

There is no collar to the garment, only a deep plunge in the shape of a "v" meaning her collarbones and upper chest are being cooled by the breeze in the garden. The gentle wind glides across her chest and through her hair. She has taken it down since she was in the village. It flows freely down her back, tiny wisps dance along her cheeks, shoulders, and the very chest he is admiring.

One tiny hint of color resides in the form of a dainty pink rose nestled among a satin bow, perfectly positioned at the bottom of the deep neckline, the very center of the valley between her breasts. His fingers itch with a deep desire to touch it, to see if it feels as soft as it appears. There will be time for that later. For now, he will continue to wonder as there are more delights to explore.

As his eyes drift downward, across the plane of her belly and her shapely hips, his eyes widen when he drinks in the sight of her most intimate part. Once, before they were married, she worried about sharing herself with him, concerned that she might not be enough for him. He has, through actions and words, proven that she is, indeed, the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, that he's the luckiest of men, and that he desires her above all others. Now, she stands before him, seducing him without ever uttering a word, luring him into her arms like a moth to flame. He knows he is powerless to resist her charms, and he has no desires to even try.

The nightgown does not reach the tops of her feet. The hem falls just below her knees. Legs toned by years of climbing stairs and walking endless corridors peek out from the lace. His pulse rate increases as he remembers how she moans when his lips kiss the spot behind her knee or whispers reverently along her inner thigh. He smiles as he recalls the first time he kissed the top of her foot and ankle and how she moans in bliss as he massages her feet after a long day.

There is a gust of wind which blows through the garden. It is as if all of nature is trying to get closer to her. The sunlight is caressing her exposed skin, the grass is tickling her feet, and the wind is wrapping her up in comfort and tranquility. The lower part of her nightgown is pressed against her bottom as the breeze blows forward, then is clinging to her front as it whips in the opposite direction. Her hair is swaying as if listening to some melodic tune.

Suddenly, she is no longer content to remain still. She steps forward until she is standing between his legs. His fingers flex instinctively as he moves to reach out and touch her, to wrap her up in his arms. He is halted by a gentle shake of her head. Intrigued, he remains motionless, curious to see what his wife turned goddess has in store.

Slowly, she closes the distance between them, her lips barely touching his. Her breath is warm, warmer than the air surrounding them. Her fingers stroke his face lightly, slipping down the sides of his neck, along his collar, and into the top of his shirt. One by one, she unbuttons it, raking her nails through the sparse hairs in the center of his chest. He has never felt this level of intensity before, and it is almost his undoing. She tugs on the sides of his shirt until it is free from his trousers and she can push it open revealing his entire upper body to nature.

Once again, she moves, though this time she is slipping onto the swing beside him. She rests her head on his shoulder as her palm glides over his chest and side. Her lips nibble and nip along his neck and ear, soothed by the tip of her tongue as it darts out to taste him.

It is only then that he dares to touch her. His hand is not trembling, thankfully. It's as steady as it was in his youth, though he now possesses the confidence of a husband deeply in love with his wife. It lands first on her knee, giving it a gentle squeeze, letting her know that he is moved beyond words by her actions. When she sighs deeply into his ear and shifts closer to him, he grows bolder. His fingertips begin to dance along the inside of her thigh, inching closer and closer to her center.

She stops him with a gentle pressure on his hand, and he turns his head to look at her, an unspoken question written on his face.

"Charlie."

He moves to kiss her but she shifts away again, saying his name once more. "Charlie!"

"Hmmm, yes, love." His voice is thick with emotions, revealing his aroused state and his deepest desire to make love to his wife, to peel away this garment and to caress every part of her until she is blissfully happy.

He hears his name once more, though this time more forcefully. "Charlie!" Suddenly, his eyes are opening and he's blinking quickly, trying to adjust to the bright light above. Elsie is standing there, her knees touching his, her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently.

"I called you several times. Are you feeling unwell?" She places her hand to his forehead. His cheeks are flushed and he's a little warm, though that is to be expected from sitting in the sun at midday.

"I'm fine, love." He takes her hand and presses a kiss to her palm. "I didn't hear you come back from your shopping."

"No, I dare say. Your eyes were closed, and when I walked out here, you were moaning." She'd heard those sorts of sounds before, though usually they were together and she had said or done something particularly enjoyable.

"Just daydreaming, my love. You caught me in the middle of a daydream."

She sits down beside him and kisses his cheek, wrapping her arm around his and hugging it to her. "From the sounds you were making, it must have been very nice." She is naughty and brushes the back of her hand against the front of his trousers, feeling just how excited he is. His sharp intake of breath confirms her suspicions. "Perhaps, we should get you out of this heat and into the cottage. I'd like to hear more about his daydream of yours." She stands and takes both of his hands in hers, helping him to his feet.

"I'd like to see your purchases from today. I hope you found something pretty." He allows her to lead him into the house, locking the back door behind them, though, as Elsie loves to remind him … "This is England, Mr. Carson." She is not afraid of burglars or intruders, only nosy cooks and sometimes an imposing lady named Mary.

She thinks of the new items she had bought in the village and a smile curls about her lips. She has splurged a little, bought things that were sensible and one or two which were decidedly not. However, given the way her husband is looking at her and reaching for her, she has no doubts that he will approve of her choices. Perhaps, if he will tell her about his daydream, she can see about making it into a reality. At the very least, she is willing to try. She is confident, either way, that once he sees how flimsy this new material is and how it clings to her in all his favorite places, there will be no questions about her purchases … only hungry eyes, roaming hands, hot kisses, and endless happiness.

He wraps his arms around her and draws her flush against his body. His lips leave a series of passionate kisses all along her neck. "Do you really want to hear about my daydream, Elsie?"

"Ohhhhhh, I do," she moans as his hands cup her breasts, massaging them as they both enjoy.

"Well …" and he begins to tell his tale, going into great detail, all the while proving once more that the woman of his daydreams is the same one who occupies his every waking thought, his one and only love. His wife. His Elsie.

 **A/N:** Thought we could use a little warmth since we're entering the cooler months of the year. Thanks for taking the time to read the chapter. I'd love a review if you are so inclined. A special thanks to all the guest reviewers and those who read but don't review. I love and appreciate you all!


	23. Undone

**Undone**

Moonbeams spill through the open curtains and bathe the room in a warm glow. Combined with the small flames dancing in the fireplace, the room is warm both in temperature and color. It's almost too warm, she thinks, though she knows that her mind will be changed on that subject as the night slips away towards morning.

Her husband's head is pillowed against her naked breast, and he is sleeping soundly. It's a rich slumber he has most assuredly earned this evening, and each little puff of air blowing across her chest causes her to shiver ever so slightly. She cards her fingers through his hair, her nails lightly scratching his scalp and soothing him deeper and deeper into his dreams. She cannot help but smile as he murmurs her name. His rich voice causes her body to react, though if truths were told, she's not sure it ever ceased answering the call of his rich timbre.

The sheets are pooled around her waist, and she is exposed, but she doesn't care. She is comfortable in her marriage bed, sated by her husband's attentions, and content in all aspects of her life. His arm is draped heavily across her stomach as he hugs her close like some childhood security blanket. In some ways, perhaps, she is his security and he is hers. That thought warms her heart and causes her to hug him that much tighter. She presses a kiss to the top of his head as her free hand runs up and down his arm.

Her body is still humming, and her mind refuses to settle down enough for her to sleep. She doesn't really mind since she is no longer bound by bells and the demands of others. If she chooses to sleep a little later in the morning, her Charlie won't mind. In fact, with little persuasion on her part, she is certain he can be convinced to join her. She smiles as she imagines them rising late into the morning like a lord and lady of a grand manor house. For a moment, she wonders if anyone living at Downton Abbey has ever been able to throw caution to the wind, discard the sheets and duvets, and let the cool night air caress their skin as she and her husband are doing now. Years of working in the grand house, first as head housemaid and then as the housekeeper, she cannot ever recall a time when she interrupted such an intimate scene. She shakes her head slightly as she thinks that they're the ones missing out on the happier, more carefree moments in life.

Once again, her husband hugs her in his sleep. His lips press against her breast in a tender kiss. For a moment, she wonders if he's waking, perhaps needing to turn onto his other side or his back. He moves his head, and his soft hairs tickle her already sensitive skin. She has to bite her lip to stifle a moan as his legs shift against hers, and his hand slips a little lower on her hip. It is then that she is reminded of his warm breath against the shell of her ear only hours before.

"I want you to come undone for me." The words have fallen from his lips as his hands and body worship hers. Sometimes, her Charlie would talk to her during their lovemaking, his voice doing things to her that she never dreamt possible. Other times, she would find herself slipping into Gaelic and crying out words and phrases born in a moment of passion and love. Tonight, though, as he has whispered the words against her ear in that rich tone of voice and his overwhelming presence surrounding her, she found she could do nothing but obey. Shattering beneath him, her eyes closed tightly and her breaths short and ragged, she toppled over the edge and took him with her.

It is only now, as she cradles his body to her and she replays the evening, that she thinks of all of the other types of "undone" they've encountered together.

Of course, there are the times during their lovemaking. She still cannot believe she was so worried about that side of things in their marriage. From the first moment they stepped across the threshold of their bedroom, Charlie had loved and cherished her, proven time and time again that he loved her and wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his days pleasing and pleasuring her. And she, his loving wife, had responded with vows of her own, time and time again watching as her man reached the pinnacle of pleasure by her own actions.

Every night for as long as she could remember, Elsie had braided her hair for sleeping. It was so much easier to manage, fewer tangles and gentler brushing. Now, though, some nights she could be persuaded to forgo the braid. She had discovered Charlie's fascination with her long hair on their honeymoon. He had politely asked her, with more than a little hesitation, if he could help her remove the pins and twists from her hair. With care and love, he gently unwound her hair until it was flowing freely down her back, completely undone by his large hands. He carded his hands through her locks, skillfully massaged her scalp until she was practically purring his name.

But, it's not always about her. She can easily count the number of times she saw Charles Carson with his shirt unbuttoned or undone when he was butler. Now, she is ever so pleased that most days he putters around their home in his shirt sleeves and with the top two buttons of his shirt unfastened. It had taken her weeks to convince him that he would be much more comfortable without a tie and a stiff collar. However, once he had finally agreed to try it for a day, he had been swayed to her way of thinking. Now, those buttons are almost always undone, and she takes every opportunity to kiss that little patch of exposed skin whenever he's near.

Then there are the chores. Washing the dishes, cooking, winding the mantle clock … those are all things which must be done on a daily basis. However, as they've learned to enjoy their married life more and worry less, Charles and Elsie have also learned that some tasks can be left undone. The floor does not need to be swept every day when there are naps to be taken on the couch. Dusting can be postponed, especially if Elsie is in the mood to bake and would love it if her husband would help. And, heaven forbid they completely let standards slip, but some days, there is simply a need to leave the bed unmade. Those are usually the rainy days when all the chores are left undone in lieu of more pleasurable and satisfying activities.

Despite her lovely thoughts, Elsie is finally growing tired. Her body has calmed, and Charles is still curled around her, his warmth invading her bones and soothing her. She wonders what he would think if he could read her thoughts, hear her late night ramblings about their life together. Her eyes are growing heavy and soon she will be fast asleep. She reaches down as far as her arm will allow and pulls the sheet around them a little closer. The air in the room has already cooled, but she knows her Charlie will take good care of her, keep her warm and safe. She brushes the errant curl from his forehead and smooths her fingertips along his temple and down the side of his face. He smiles in his sleep, and she returns that smile with love and adoration.

But, for every one of their undone moments, there is one that she refuses to allow. She made a promise to herself on the eve of her wedding and so far, she has not broken that vow. She doubts he has ever given it any thought, but she knows in her heart that it is important. Never let it be said that Elsie Hughes, now Carson, allowed the sun to go down without telling her husband that she loved him.

"I love you, Charlie, so very much." She softly gives voice to her words before her lips press a kiss to the top of his head. She is startled when he replies. She was so sure he was asleep all this time.

"I love you, too, Elsie, and it costs me nothing to say it." He stretches and shifts, giving her body a reprieve from the weight of him. His arms open fully to allow her to snuggle into his embrace, and he wraps her up in warmth and love.

Tomorrow will be another undone day. The forecast is predicting rain, there are no pressing matters in the village, the floors were swept just this morning, and the dusting can wait. Maybe, if she's lucky, Elsie will see just how much it takes for Charlie Carson to become completely undone. Until then … sleep beckons and they both answer the call.

 **A/N:** And this, my friends, is where we leave our happy couple until Christmas. I do hope you've enjoyed the prompts for the Unofficial Downton Abbey Series 8 challenge. I cannot adequately tell you how much your support and reviews mean to me. You are what keeps me inspired to continue writing for Charles and Elsie. Until Christmas … xx


	24. Joy

The **Joy** of **Christmas**

Darkness fills the room as Charles begins to slowly wake from his lovely dream. They were at the beach again, enjoying the warmth of a summer day, waves lapping gently against their ankles, ice cream filling their bellies, and birds dancing high above them on a breeze.

Elsie is pressed firmly against his body, both for comfort and for warmth, and he hates to disturb her. She will have to get up and dress soon enough, brave the chilly weather to walk to the house for yet another busy day of work only to walk home again in the frigid temperatures. And he is reminded of just how cold it is this morning when he reaches his hand from beneath the warmth of the blankets to retrieve his watch from the nightstand to check the time. He sighs happily as he reads the time. There is still a good half hour before she needs to wake so he wraps his arms around her and burrows deeper into the covers, perhaps to retreat to the happiness of his dream.

But, before he has even a moment to recapture those images, he hears her soft voice, still thick from sleep and feels her warm breath against his cheek. "What time is it? I feel like we just went to bed." Her arms tighten around him as she waits for the answer.

"You still have a half hour, though I'm sure they wouldn't mind if you stayed home today. It would give Miss Baxter a chance to test her wings." He knows it's a frivolous suggestion. Elsie is too much of a perfectionist, too committed to her work. He remembers those days well and understands it when she tells him that is not an option, gently reminding him that Her Ladyship has already given her the next two days away from the house as an additional treat.

"I'll be home before you know it," she says as she leans up and captures his lips with hers for a soft, warm kiss. "And then, we can eat a hearty supper and decorate our tree. I've been looking forward to this night since you brought the tree home." She presses her index finger to the little cleft in his chin and smiles as he shifts his head ever so slightly to kiss the pad of her finger.

He tugs the blankets up around her shoulders as she easily slips her body over his until she's lying flush against him, belly to belly, her head resting in the crook of his neck. If asked, she would not be able to explain the need to hear his heart beating in her ear or his solid frame beneath her as they cuddle like this from time to time. "I'm not too heavy, am I? I can move."

"Don't you dare." His arms wrap around her waist as he holds her closer, and they slip into a comfortable silence, each enjoying the last few moments of stillness before the day truly begins.

But, it's not long before Elsie is compelled to move. She has a job to do, at least for a few more weeks, and she is relatively certain that if she stays for much longer, Charles might very well persuade her to stay, or at least give her a very good and enjoyable reason to be delayed.

When she joins him downstairs, she finds that there is a good fire going in the hearth, her tea is prepared to perfection, and he's already slicing the bread for their toast and jam. He's pleased with himself, and that fills her with pride. He turns to receive her kiss before she leans into his side. He holds out his hand and smiles. "No tremors this morning … at least not yet."

She takes his hand in hers and kisses the back of it then turns it over and kisses his palm. "It's going to be a good day, Charlie. I feel it."

He chuckles at her enthusiasm. "You're just excited because we are decorating our tree this evening. You're like a little girl who can't wait for Father Christmas to arrive."

"Well, why shouldn't I be excited," she asks, giving his bottom a playful pat. "This is my favorite time of year, and we celebrate the anniversary of your proposal."

He turns and wraps his arms around her, drawing her into his embrace. "And you said yes … warts and all, though I have yet to find a single wart anywhere, and I do believe I have inspected _all_ of you."

The last part of his statement is whispered against the shell of her ear which causes her to shiver in delight, anticipation, and memories. "Perhaps, if things go well tonight, we might perform another inspection," she teases, giving his heart a reason to beat a little faster.

They talk over toast and tea about dinner and decorations. And as much as he loathes visiting Mrs. Wigan at the post office, Charles agrees to go and fetch the decorations they've ordered from the catalog that arrived weeks ago. Elsie had protested, at first, but Charles managed to convince her that they deserved them, little trinkets which they chose together and with love. While they were grateful for the ornaments given to them by the family, these were special … something completely new and their very own.

He watches her leave and waves to her from the kitchen window as she turns around once more to blow him a kiss. Once again, he marvels at his luck and how incredibly happy she makes him. It's just another reason why he wants to spoil her a little with new decorations. She, like him, has worked hard all of her life and now it's time they started enjoying the fruits of their labors.

With the breakfast dishes washed and dried, the fire banked for the morning, and his warmest coat and scarf wrapped tightly around him, Charles takes a deep breath and steels himself for the journey into the village. He doesn't mind the cold as much as the postmistress. She makes him incredibly uncomfortable, though Elsie finds it all very amusing. _There's no real harm in Mrs. Wigan_ , she reminds him whenever he complains about her to his wife. Elsie knows her Charlie is above reproach and would never look at another woman, despite how many in the village would love to be in her shoes. Still, he finds it all very unnerving the way the impertinent woman speaks to him or looks for a reason to touch his arm or ask probing questions. He shakes his head to clear his thoughts. If he's lucky, there will be others in the post office. He can retrieve the parcel and be on his way swiftly … hopefully!

Fortunately, fate smiles upon Charles as he enters the post office. Mrs. Wigan is deep in conversation with Mrs. Steadman, no doubt gossiping about someone in the village or some tidbit overheard through the shared phone lines. He nods politely to both women before stepping up to the counter and greeting Michael, her new assistant.

"Good morning, Michael. Mrs. Carson sent me in because she believes we may have a package. I am fairly certain it's coming from London or perhaps York, maybe Manchester."

Michael laughs heartily, startling both women and causing them to turn their attentions to Charles and the lad who finds the conversation so very amusing. "Covering the whole isle, aren't we, Mr. Carson?"

Charles can see the humor in his statement and nods. "Yes, well, we ordered some things from a catalog … well Mrs. Carson actually placed the order. So, I'm not entirely sure where they're shipping from, you see."

And then his luck changed.

"Ah, Michael. I'll take care of Mr. Carson if you'll see Mrs. Steadman to the carriage with her package." Sensing the shift in the atmosphere, Michael does as he is told and rushes to help the older woman. If he's quick about it, he can return and offer Mr. Carson some sort of relief from his employer.

Charles stands perfectly still while he waits for Mrs. Wigan to locate the parcel behind the little curtain that separates the front of the post office from the chaos of the letter sorting system in the back. When she returns, her face bears a look of concern and nervousness.

"I located Mrs. Carson's package," she says sweetly enough but then rounds the corner to stand beside him. Shaking the box a little, she watches as Mr. Carson's eyes grow wide and his jaw sets in a firm line which would make even the surest of footmen crumble. "I'm afraid, though, there may have been some damage."

He takes the box from her hands and inspects it for any visible damage. Seeing none, he brings it up to his ear and shakes it gently once more. Sure enough, the sounds of broken glass and shattered baubles resounds and his heart clenches in his chest. Images of a heartbroken Elsie staring down into a package of broken Christmas ornaments cause a wave of great sadness to wash over him.

"I can assure you, Mr. Carson, this was not something that happened on my watch. I have taken the utmost care of the box since I knew it was yours." Mrs. Wigan has placed her hand on his arm and he recoils as if he's been shocked.

"The package is not mine," he reminds her. "It belongs to my wife. It was something special to us, and now it sounds as if it's useless. If you'll excuse me, I have other errands to attend to this morning." Without waiting for an apology or other words meant to no doubt impress him or appease him, he takes the parcel out into the biting cold and walks with crestfallen shoulders down to the general store. The last thing he hears as the door to the post office closes behind him is Mrs. Wigan's shrill voice. _Please tell Mrs. Carson I'm sorry for her loss._

Once he's inside the store, he asks Mr. Beecham for a pair of scissors to slice open the box. He must assess the damage, and he might as well do it here before he treks home empty handed. And it is exactly as he's feared. All of the ornaments, except for the delicate little angel for the top of their tree are broken beyond repair, in some cases completely unrecognizable as ornaments at all.

"Oh, dear. What happened, Mr. Carson?" Mrs. Beecham has seen the shattered glass and is genuinely concerned.

"I suppose someone was careless in handling the box," he answers honestly, softly. "Mrs. Carson and I had ordered these for our tree this year. I'm not sure what to do now. We have ornaments, but these were ones we chose together." Part of him feels a little ashamed that he is sharing private details of his life with his bride with this woman, though he knows and respects her. He knows she would never indulge in the gossip circles and she's someone Elsie admires and trusts.

"We have a few things left here, but I'm sure they're nothing compared to what you and Mrs. Carson had chosen. I'm so very sorry." She places her hand on his arm and it strikes Charles as funny how he has a completely different reaction to her genuine touch than that of Mrs. Wigan.

"That's very kind, Mrs. Beecham. Perhaps, I'll pick up a few things. I'd appreciate your help, if you have time."

"If she has time … she lives for this sort of thing, Mr. Carson." Mr. Beecham is smiling and shaking his head as his wife leads their friend over to the small display of trinkets and ornaments in the corner of their shop.

"Oh, hush you! This isn't about me or making a sale. This is about helping the Carsons. Mrs. Carson has always been very kind to us, and it's the season for helping others." She pats Mr. Beecham's cheek as she walks by then completely turns her attentions to their selection of Christmas items, carefully choosing a few for Mr. Carson to inspect.

When he finally leaves the general store with his purchases and the box of ruined ornaments, Charles is feeling a little better. It isn't a perfect solution but at least Elsie will have something to adorn their tree. Next year, they will take a trip to London to buy special ornaments. That way, he can ensure their safety from the store to their home. And Mrs. Beecham had been very kind in helping him with the choices, even offering a few suggestions for decorating their tree. In some ways, this might be even better than the ordered ornaments, or at least he hopes Elsie will think that once she sees what he has to offer.

As he stands in their little cottage, he mentally runs through the directions Mrs. Beecham has given him. He hopes to have everything ready by the time Elsie returns home. He can give her all of the details of his day over their supper. Then, afterwards, they can retire to the sitting room with the bottle of wine he has chosen for the evening and focus on making their tree beautiful. Regardless of the setback, he is determined to move mountains to make sure Elsie is happy and their home is decorated for the holiday.

He checks his pocket watch and excitement begins to settle in his heart and mind. Elsie will be home soon so he must have everything ready. That way, she won't have to lift a finger. Their supper is already warming in the oven, the lights have been strung on their tree, and the table is set. It's time for him to finish his preparations for her surprise.

Charles stares down into the little paper bag and tries hard to remember the directions from the kind woman in the store. He is positive she did not give him an exact measurement so he must use his own judgment. He places the pot with the butter on top of the stove and adds a few kernels. One handful, then another. He surveys the small amount mixing with the melted butter and decides that's nowhere near enough. He reaches into the paper bag and fills his large hand with the popcorn kernels before adding them to the pot.

He's still not convinced there is enough corn in the pot. The idea, or so Mrs. Beecham had suggested, was to pop the corn and then attach the pieces with thread. He smiles at the idea of sitting comfortably with Elsie on their little sofa. He would hand her the popped corn pieces while she deftly handled the needle and thread. He would occasionally steal a piece, trying to secretly chew it without her noticing, or he'd feed her a bite then kiss her cheek, perhaps even nuzzle her neck sweetly. And when they were finished, they would have a pretty garland for their tree. Then, it could be shared with the birds and squirrels when it was time to get rid of the tree.

As he looks down into the bubbling mixture, he makes a quick decision. He picks up the paper bag and empties the remainder of the contents into the pot and secures the lid.

With the first part of his plan underway, Charles works quickly to set out the other items they need for decorating their tree. He places the box with the broken objects aside, carefully removing the angel from the debris and placing her in the center of their little table surrounded by ribbons, small ornaments, and bright red cardinals. He takes a moment to truly inspect the five birds, remembering something Elsie had once told him.

 _Whenever a cardinal appears, it's like being visited by someone you love and have lost. It's their way of saying hello and reminding us that they've never truly left us. Isn't that wonderful, Charlie?_

Gently with his index finger, he strokes the top of each bird's head, giving it a name. Mr. Hughes. Mrs. Hughes. Da Carson. Ma Carson. Sybil Branson. He finds it somewhat fitting that there had only been five birds in the store, all cardinals, and there were exactly five people he thought Elsie might wish to honor this season. Fate had intervened, or perhaps it was as it was always meant to be.

Before he could get too lost in his own thoughts, though, Charles begins to hear the distinct sounds of popping coming from the kitchen. Remembering the pot on the stove, he races to the kitchen, just as Elsie is coming in through the front door, greeting him and shaking the snow from her hat and coat.

"Welcome home, love. Be there in a moment," he calls out as he enters the kitchen. Only, the sight that greets him is not what he was expecting. The lid is almost entirely off the pot. There are stray pieces of popcorn all over the floor, the top of the stove, and even the countertop. And more pieces are exploding, more corn is popping and he's not entirely sure what to do. There is no way to contain the mess it's making as each new burst sends popcorn pieces flying all over the kitchen. It is only now that he realizes his mistake. He should have erred on the side of caution and made smaller batches instead of using the entire bag.

He glances around the kitchen in the hopes of finding something to help him contain the situation. That's when he sees his beautiful wife standing in the doorway, her hand covering her mouth in a vain attempt to hide her laughter. Her eyes are sparkling with giddiness and then he is lost in her happiness, the laughter bubbling from somewhere deep inside her, the joy he hears in her voice. He abandons all hope of containing the mess and removes the lid, placing it aside and letting the remainder of the kernels expand, covering the stove and countertop and even a large portion of the floor with white, fluffy bits of corn.

He crosses the room to her and kisses her deeply, swallowing her laughter and replacing it with a soft moan of happiness and desire. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against hers and sighs. "Welcome home, Mrs. Carson. I suppose you'd like an explanation."

"Well, it would be nice. Give me a few minutes to change clothes and into something warmer, and I'll help you while you regale me with this tale of mystery and mayhem. I'm sure it's going to be a good one."

"I think you'll find my heart was in the right place, though I wouldn't dare ask you to help me clear away all this mess. Besides, we're not planning to eat it … well, not all of it at any rate. You go change, and I'll explain over dinner."

And so he does. He starts with the unpleasant business at the post office, complete with the encounter with Mrs. Wigan that still makes him shudder. He sees his wife shaking her head, knowing that she understands his plight, and loves him. He brings over the aforementioned parcel and rests his warm hand on her back as she sheds a few tears for the carefully chosen ornaments which will never grace their tree. He kisses the back of her head and reaches around to remove the box from her hands, replacing it with the beautiful angel dressed in all white with a little gold trim around the collar and hems of her dress.

"At least she survived," Elsie says, gently stroking her little porcelain cheek. "That has to mean something, Charlie."

"Indeed it does. We have a little angel of our own in the form of Mrs. Beecham." His sudden praise for the wife of the owner of the general store catches her off guard and she turns in her chair to look into his face. "Ah, you see, I went there after the post office, and she helped me choose a few things for the tree. I know we weren't keen on any of them when you and I looked before, but we tried to choose a few things we both thought you'd like. She was most kind and generous with her time."

"She's a good woman, and I'm sure whatever you chose, with or without her assistance, is perfect." She stretches up to kiss his cheek then to cup it with her hand as she holds his gaze with her own. "But, that still doesn't explain all that popcorn in the kitchen. Did you think you were feeding all of the village with it?"

He takes her hand and leads her into the sitting room where it's toasty warm thanks to the additional logs he's placed on the fire. On the little table in front of their sofa are dozens of bowls and pots, each one containing heaping piles of popcorn. Off to the side is her sewing box and a wrapped gift she has never seen before. The paper is familiar but that is all.

"Once you open the gift, I will explain more." He hands her the present and sits beside her, his arm draped around her waist and his hand resting comfortably on her hip. He is looking over her shoulder as she takes great pleasure in opening her surprise.

Inside the box, Charles has placed each of the cardinals, all of the ribbons, and the new decorations for their tree. He feels his heart leap with joy as she gasps at the contents. He has made her happy and that, in turn, has brought such pleasure to him. He feels that despite the crushed baubles from before, these have more than made up for the accident.

Carefully, she removes each bird, tears of happiness and remembrance spilling down her cheek. "Only five," she asks with a shaking voice.

"Your parents, my parents, and Lady Sybil," he replies as he brushes away her tears. "Messengers, bringers of joy and happiness to our home and fond memories from childhood. I hope you approve."

She shifts until she is facing him fully, her arms draped over his shoulders. "I have the best husband in the world. Of course I approve … of everything."

He kisses her sweetly on the lips, relief flooding him with the knowledge that her night is not ruined, that their decorating plans can still move forward. When he removes his lips from hers, he reaches over and feeds her a piece of popcorn.

"Mrs. Beecham gave me the idea of stringing this together to make a sort of garland for the tree. However, she neglected to tell me how much to use and I'm afraid I was a little heavy handed with the bag." They both dissolve into laughter as he tells her how the entire contents of the bag came to be inside the pot on the stove. In the end, she is wiping away more tears of laughter as she remembers the images of her Charlie in the kitchen with the exploding popcorn as she returned home from work.

As the night wears on, they sit side by side just as he has envisioned. He hands her bits of corn for the handmade garland, occasionally sneaking a bit and sharing some with her. They dress their tree in the beautiful red silk ribbon he's purchased, as well as the popcorn strings, hang the new glass balls from the branches, carefully attach the birds to the tree, making certain they are in a place of prominence. They will serve as a reminder of past joys, losses even, though all laced with wonderful memories which have led them to this place, this time in their lives.

With the angel secured on the top of their tree, Charles switches off the lamps and overhead lights in their home, bathing the room in the soft glow of the white lights on their tree. He walks up behind Elsie and slips his arms around her, drawing her back against him until he's able to rest his chin on her shoulder. "I love you, Elsie Carson. I'm sorry this isn't the tree we had planned for, but I think we did a wonderful job pulling it together."

She leans back into his embrace and turns her head slightly so she can see his face. The glow on his cheeks matches her own and she's not sure it's entirely from the tree lights but perhaps a mixture of bliss and Christmas. "It's better than we planned, Charlie. It's simple and sweet, and it holds so many memories, old and new. It's not about the shiny things on the tree but the thoughts and feelings behind them. I'd say based on that fact alone, we have the prettiest tree in the world." She turns fully and hugs him tightly, her head resting on his chest and her eyes fixed on their little Christmas tree.

He holds her close, once more thanking God for putting her into his life and for allowing him the privilege to be called hers. "Shall we finish our wine and enjoy our tree for a bit longer? Then, if you're not too tired, perhaps we could go upstairs for an early night." He waggles his eyebrows at her and she smiles.

"Who says we have to go upstairs for that, Charlie? Join me on the sofa and I'll explain a few more of the joys and mysteries of Christmas to you."

It was much later when Charles and Elsie finally untangled themselves and made it upstairs to their bedroom. Tomorrow, they would make a special trip into the village to personally thank Mrs. Beecham for her assistance with the decorations. If she woke early enough, she might even have time to bake a batch of shortbread cookies as a way of saying thank you to the woman who had helped her Charlie bring so much happiness and joy into their home for Christmas.

Then again, her husband was well versed in bringing her happiness and joy … over and over again. With a smile on her lips and wrapped up warming in her loving husband's arms, Elsie drifted off to sleep, convinced that this was, indeed, one of the happiest Christmas's she had ever had.

 **A/N:** And this concludes the Downton Abbey Series 8 prompt series. Thanks very much for the lovely reviews and support you've given me for these little glimpses into Charles and Elsie's lives. And a special thanks to Brenna-Louise for the prompt words I used for this DAS8 challenge. HUGS! Also, a HUGE THANKS to DameofDownstairs on Tumblr for the fantastic artwork for this prompt. Hop over to my tumblr (Chelsie-Carson) and check it out. She really is amazing!


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